


Wilted Flags

by werebird



Series: Beach Plum Bank [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Body Image, Canon-Typical Violence, Declarations Of Love, Enemies to Friends, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Gender-Neutral Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Guilt, Intimacy, Investigations, Masturbation, Mild Painplay, Old Age, On the Run, Other, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), References to Depression, Relationship Issues, Self-Love, Sounding, it takes time though don't look at me, the symbiote kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28452906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebird/pseuds/werebird
Summary: "So," Barnes said. He didn't move. Eyes sharp and captivating. His voice wasn't as low as Eddie had expected, but it seeped deep into his ears and memory.All of his body was still, sitting there in the old chair with Eddie's clothes draped over the back. The room was quiet too, as silent as it hadn't ever been before. Every piece of furniture under his spell. Under his control. Waiting for instructions. Then Barnes spoke again."Word on the street is you're looking for me?"
Relationships: Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Beach Plum Bank [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028022
Comments: 45
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 -- And we jump right back in...

Eddie held his breath firmly for a moment, then made a decision. 

"Just so you know," he said, closing the door behind them. His voice was steadier than expected. Its clarity in the small room, the lack of light, the warm air that carried the scent of an aftershave that wasn't Eddie's -- all of it was almost intimate. "Trying to kill me won't end well for you." 

He thought it only fair to deliver a decent warning. In the darkness, he couldn't make out Barnes's expression, not with his own eyes. But Venom helped him see with more senses than one. 

With the tip of his finger he switched the light on. Barnes didn't move. He was still sitting eerily calm in his chair, didn't seem to care about the change, didn't flinch at the sudden brightness. Eddie guessed that he had perfect night vision anyway and was quick to adjust. Barnes was a supersoldier after all. 

"Good to know," he just said. The answer surprised Eddie. The subtle accent began to show and Eddie understood why no one he'd talked to had been able to place it. "So, why are you looking for me?" Barnes asked, crossed his feet by the ankles. Eddie moved his gaze up his legs, trying to make out the shape of a weapon underneath his jeans. Seeking the butt of a gun further up, strapped to his waist. 

"I'm not," Eddie said, mostly to buy himself some more time. Time to come up with something better than him being a benched reporter desperate for some hit piece to get back into the game. 

Slowly, he put his bag down and reached for the zipper of his jacket, the constraint of the tight fabric adding unnecessarily to the tension in Eddie's body. It didn't seem unreasonable to worry about Venom shooting out of his chest like a nightmarish jack-in-the-box. The symbiote was alert, was constantly moving, merging with his skin or seeping through it beneath his clothes. They were ready to attack and it gave Eddie some peace and confidence alike. 

Nothing gave away how long Barnes had been waiting for him. Ten minutes or an hour. It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, maybe half an hour since he'd left Bess standing by the truck. 

It didn't matter who had passed Barnes the memo that someone was looking for him. Someone had. Maybe it had been Bess, maybe it had been McFarlane himself sometime this morning. Maybe Aaron hadn't lied, was indeed friends with Barnes, and had sent him a text as a warning. Maybe Joey had. Joey with his talent for those believable covers Eddie was in desperate need for now. 

"Try again," Barnes said, dismissing Eddie's statement. It wasn't a threat, not explicitly, but Eddie heard it nonetheless. By now the aftershave was all Eddie breathed, clouding his judgement. Barnes didn't even shave. He kept a neatly trimmed beard. This time his hair wasn't tied in his neck, but fell down his shoulders in shiny strands. Maybe it was his conditioner sticking to the air. 

"I'm looking for Steve," Eddie said without thinking. Something crossed every feature of Barnes's face, for just a split second, something Eddie couldn't name yet. But it was a reaction and so Eddie pressed forward. "I knew him," he said, deliberately tender. "From before," he added. "From before the snap." 

It had been impossible for Eddie to determine whether or not Barnes had survived the snap, but he knew that Barnes had been thought dead for almost a century. Thought dead even after Rogers had been revived. It was the time frame Eddie had to work with. It was still a bit of a gamble, but Eddie was good at his job. He knew how to remain as vague as possible in order to let others fill in the gaps for him. 

"Were you SHIELD?" Barnes asked. Somehow Eddie had thought him smarter than to provide answers like that. Then again, from what Eddie had learned, Barnes was trained to be a killer, not trained to interact with the media. 

"No," Eddie told him. Although it was tempting to go with the prompt, he couldn't risk being caught in a lie this early. And knowing of how SHIELD had been infiltrated, it was crystal clear to Eddie that Barnes would know more than he could possibly deduct from his research. "It wasn't like that, it wasn't work," he said, almost flinching before he spoke the next part. "It was more personal," he added, stealing from Joey's imagination once more. 

A glimpse of guilt lit up at the thought. Eddie didn't think it wasn't likely he was going to meet him at the diner after all. He was either going to be dead or reeling from a confrontation. Best case scenario, he was going to prepare to take on Barnes and Rogers in lies and fight at once. 

Eddie forced those thoughts aside though, trying to recall instead every single thing he'd ever read about Steve Rogers and Captain America. Sorting through glimpses of information and press pictures, until something lined up almost seamlessly with his own story.

"We boxed at the same gym for a while," he told Barnes, excitement rushing through his body and he could feel Venom snacking on it eagerly. "In New York," he said, blocking out his own painful memories. Of him, --as Anne had phrased it--, being _run out of the city_. "That's how we met. After he, you know, came out of the ice," Eddie said, anchoring his story firmly into what he believed was Barnes's blind spot. "Before he became part of the Avengers." 

As Eddie spoke, more of that shadowy emotion flickered over Barnes's expression, and this time Eddie felt that he recognized it. Hurt. He saw it clearly in Barnes's eyes. Those eyes that held his own so stubbornly. So dutifully. 

Venom aside, Eddie wasn't a sadist. But seeing a hint of insecurity, of doubt, of uncertainty on Barnes's face filled him with brief satisfaction. There was a way in now, as narrow a path as it may seem, as risky and unpredictable, --and short-lived on top of that--, but Eddie was determined to take it. 

Slowly, he stepped further into the room, motioning towards the edge of the bed. He waited for Barnes to nod before he sat down. Although Eddie felt that he and Venom had a good chance of taking him on, he didn't want to give his confidence away just yet. 

This time, he was prepared for the pain he was expecting, prepared to hide it, but none came as his butt touched the mattress. It was either Venom or the adrenaline numbing the sore skin, possibly both at once. 

"So why are you looking for Steve?" Barnes asked. Whatever had crossed his face, his heart, was gone now, leaving him entirely blank. So different from what people had said about the polite mystery man in the baseball cap, the one so distant yet charming. So different from what had made Eddie stare at his pictures over and over again. Now Barnes was on stand-by. He was paying attention as he waited. Waited for Eddie to make a mistake. 

"I-," Eddie started, panicked again for a brief second. "I need his help," he answered, forcing his expression to hide his lies. "I'm in trouble." 

"Help with what?" Barnes asked. He seemed set on keeping this interrogation going, quenching Eddie's hopes for a two-sided conversation. 

"I'd rather tell him in person," Eddie said, buying more time. 

"Why do you think he's here?" Barnes asked. His body language gave nothing away, he was as still as stone. No fidgeting, no bouncing knee, no twitching shoulder. Eddie was pretty sure super soldiers needed to breathe too, but Barnes's chest seemed awfully still when he wasn't speaking. 

"Come on," Eddie said, faking a smile. "You're here," he added, leaving it there for Barnes to fill in the blanks. He wanted Barnes to believe that everything Eddie knew about him came from Rogers directly. 

"He's not," Barnes said so convincingly that Eddie began wondering if he'd gotten it all wrong. 

"Do you know where he is?" he asked back, unwilling to let that seed of doubt take root. "You must know where he is." 

Barnes looked at him slightly amused. It suited him, the softer lines around his eyes, his mouth relaxed." If I did I wouldn't tell you." He shifted his body, telling Eddie without words that the conversation was over and that he was ready to leave. The chair gave noise to the new and uneven distribution of weight. Eddie tried to ignore it, but the subtle wailing mirrored his inner panic all too well. 

"I think you're lying," he said, his voice too quiet for any real conviction. And yet the desperation was real. He'd possibly sounded like a man in need of assistance. In need of help from Captain America. 

And yet Barnes smirked, baring perfect rows of perfect teeth, his eyes narrowing. Seeing this new side of him reminded Eddie of his danger. His skills and his violence. And his thoughts alerted Venom, their own set of teeth spiking behind Eddie's, making his mouth feel impossibly crowded and too small for his tongue. 

"And I know you're lying," Barnes countered in a casual manner. Although every part of his body seemed ready to stand, he remained seated. 

A million things could have given Eddie away. A million mistakes. And Eddie was going to take his cacophony of lies and use them to his advantage. 

"But you don't know which part I'm lying about," he guessed, cutting his tongue on one of Venom's teeth. As he watched Barnes for a reaction, he swallowed the taste of blood. It aroused him more that it hurt him, made him feel powerful more than inconvenienced. It reminded him of his own danger. His own skills and violence. 

He was Venom. 

"That's right, Eddie," the symbiote agreed in the back of his head. "We are."

Eddie felt the corner of his mouth twitch with a smile, but he bit his lip to keep it from spreading further. Barnes was watching him, assessing him. 

"How about I give you my number and you pass it on?" Eddie offered as a distraction. "And then Steve can decide whether or not to call me back." 

Out of instinct, Eddie stood to grab his notepad from the desk, then scanned the surface helplessly for a pencil. He had been moving without thinking, had been eager to do something, anything, to get away from Barnes's gaze. Now he was trapped in it again. The only pen he could spot was sitting on the nightstand behind Barnes.

Hesitantly, he pointed at it. 

"May I?" he asked. For a long moment Barnes remained motionless, his eyes still fixed on Eddie's face. Then he turned his head slowly, following Eddie's finger. It was difficult to tell whether it was a display of carelessness to take his eyes off him, whether it was some form of dismissal or even a small sign of trust. 

With his metal hand, Barnes got hold of the pen, brought it around and then placed it on the desk. Using the tip of one of his fingers, he smoothly nudged the pen forward until it rolled towards Eddie. 

"Thanks," Eddie said, taking it into his hand and then, for some reason, bringing it closer to his body as if he was afraid someone would take it from him again. 

"He's not going to call," Barnes cautioned, but Eddie chose to ignore him. Instead, he put down his number and signed it ' _Eddie from Goldie's Gym_ '. 

He knew from his days in New York where Captain America had trained before being recruited by SHIELD. He knew the place. Had even stepped foot inside for a story once. He'd never actually ran into Steve Rogers there, but he was hoping that Rogers had sparred with at least a couple of different guys every now and then. Guys he wouldn't remember well enough to tell apart. 

Although he'd just been itching to walk out, Barnes seemed thrown off by the change in dynamics. He was no longer in control of the conversation and if Eddie had to make another guess, he'd say Barnes wasn't too happy about it. 

"How did you find me?" Barnes asked. 

Eddie shrugged. He ripped the page from the notepad and left it on the table for Barnes to take. He didn't. 

"Rumors," Eddie just said. "Look, I'm not a threat, okay?" he tried. Held his hands up, palms open, offering just skin. "If I had wanted to rat you out, I would have called the cops by now, wouldn't I?" 

Barnes looked at him as it was news to him that the police had any interest in finding him. Granted, there were a lot of other, more pressing issues to get a grip on, but the arrest warrant was still as active as it had been five, six or seven years ago. 

"I'm not worried about you," Barnes said with a kind of dismissive arrogance that stung. "I'm worried about who you may have led up here." 

"No one," Eddie said. A reflex. Then he paused. The thought that somehow someone had been watching, shadowing him while he followed Barnes's trail hadn't crossed his mind until now. 

"How did you find me?" Barnes asked again. He gave no sign of impatience but Eddie projected some onto him nonetheless. 

"People remember you," he admitted, feeling the hint of a blush rising up from his chest against his will. "Whether you want them to or not." 

Barnes nodded dispassionately. Apparently, he deemed this scenario believable enough to not doubt the truthfulness of Eddie's answer. And why wouldn't he. It was his face and he saw it every day in the mirror. 

"I need you to stay put for now," Barnes told Eddie before he sat up straight again. "Don't leave town, don't try to find me." 

Eddie was about to protest when Barnes slapped the metal hand onto the table, palm flat over the paper with Eddie's number. The sudden noise and display of force rippled through Eddie's body, leaving him speechless. He could feel Venom seeping through his skin under his shirt, forming a protective layer as a precaution. Eddie was already seeing things escalate as Barnes continued. 

"If you're serious about this," he started, sliding the paper towards his body. The metal scratched uncomfortably over the wooden surface. "You're going to stay put and wait for the call. Stop going around asking stupid questions. You never know who's listening." 

Eddie nodded, thinking of how little Barnes knew about the extra set of ears in the room with them. Somewhere inside Eddie's body or out, maybe pressed against his skin from the inside. Maybe paying attention to Eddie's heartbeat only. His fears and agitation. 

"If I see you playing detective, I'll make sure you won't need anyone's help ever again," Barnes warned. He pocketed the page without folding it, the paper crumpling between metal fingers. He didn't ask Eddie if he'd understood. Eddie guessed it didn't really matter to him. Then he stood. Not as tall as Eddie had expected. Still radiating an unusual amount of strength and power. 

Every step that followed seemed impossibly silent. Barnes opened the door but Eddie couldn't hear the click of the lock. A second later he had vanished and a small mound of snow piled at the threshold of the open doorway. 

Eddie shivered at the cold, all of his muscles tight and tense, begging for fight or flight. But it was too late. At once he snapped himself out of it, conquering the impulse to force the door shut and stepping out instead. 

His eyes tried to make out Barnes's shape in the dark, but he had no luck. There was no sign of him anymore. Eddie let his gaze fall to the ground turning in his spot, his eyes searching for footprints in the snow. 

"What the fuck," he whispered. Every word, every breath visible in the dim light coming from his room. 

"Look up," Venom prompted him gently and when Eddie did, he saw it too. The prints where two hands had found the ledge and pulled a sturdy, muscular body up on the roof. 

"What. The fuck," Eddie said again, staring upwards. Still there was nothing to make out in the dark, just the glittering snow floating down onto his face. 


	2. Chapter 2

They could have chased after him, --obviously--, Venom could have had them jump up and down that roof multiple times without effort. And yet, Eddie chose to take Barnes's advice. Despite his lies, he was serious about his number and he still had hopes that Rogers would be curious, --and selfless enough to call and offer his help. If not him, then who would? 

So they walked back inside and Eddie locked the door behind them. Then he drew the curtains close with a bit of too much force. He contemplated pushing the chair up beneath the door knob, but then decided that he wasn't going to let Barnes's paranoia take hold of him. If someone had followed him here, he would have noticed. Venom would have noticed. And if someone else had discovered this place and who was hiding up on that beach plum bank, it was Barnes's own fault. Not Eddie's. Barnes had put his face up into that security camera in the first place. Eddie refused to take responsibility for that. 

"I guess we're staying put," he said to Venom then wondered if Barnes had somehow bugged his motel room. "Nothing's different in here, is it?" he asked, looking around. "You sensing any weird signals?" He bent down to check under the bed. 

"Nothing, Eddie," Venom told him.  
  
For a second, Eddie considered changing the room despite it, if only to eliminate the possibility of Barnes spying on them, and throw him off should he decide to come visit unannounced for a second time. But he needed to come up with a good explanation before asking the old McFarlane for a new room. There was, after all, still a chance that the old man had been the one informing Barnes of Eddie's curiosity. 

"What time is it?" Eddie asked, but knowing Venom, his question was in vain. He pulled out his phone instead. It was just after eight although Eddie felt like more time had passed. "Are you hungry?" he wondered. 

"Always, Eddie," Venom said and Eddie knew it wasn't an exaggeration.

"He won't try and kill us over getting some food, will he?" Eddie asked, but he had already decided. He checked his jeans for his wallet and got his new jacket out from the bag. 

"He can try," Venom said. They were on the same side. "But he won't get far." 

* * *

This time Eddie sat himself in the familiar booth which seemed to irritate Joey who kept glancing over from the bar. Eddie wasn't feeling particularly welcoming, --yet--, and he stared out the window, catching Joey's nervous looks only in the reflection. 

He didn't think that Joey had been the one alerting Barnes, but he wasn't too proud of the way he'd gotten what he needed out of that kid for his investigation either. It didn't matter. It was up to Steve Rogers now, up to Captain America. 

Eddie knew he was taking a risk by following Barnes's order, but he was willing to take his chances with Steve. Willing to risk Barnes making the hurried decision to take off immediately. He had enough material to fill in his first draft and keep his editor happy while he pursued the story further. There were only so many places those two could go from here in the middle of what Eddie thought looked like it would grow into a snow storm. Eddie would find them again. However, he hoped that Barnes's false sense of superiority gave him enough courage to not pack up and run yet. 

Although Eddie was taking up space for four people for a while by now, Joey continued to leave him alone for the time being. The diner was quiet, but not empty. A couple was sitting in another booth, talking so closely that Eddie could barely make out a word. There was a family in the back, one of the kids sleeping on their dad's lap, and four lone guests at four different tables, enjoying their food in silence. Neither of them seemed familiar to Eddie until one of them stood to leave and Eddie thought he looked like the old guy playing cards with McFarlane and his partner the other day. 

Eddie hadn't noticed that he was watching so openly until the guy nodded at him and left the diner with a friendly, wrinkly smile on his face. Ashamed for being caught staring, Eddie looked down at his hands, smiling too when he saw that the insides of his palms were webbed in black. 

"Are we making friends or enemies?" Eddie wondered as he trailed the lines with a fingertip. His voice was barely a whisper, his words mostly thoughts. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, fighting off exhaustion and homesickness. 

"Neither," Venom said wisely and Eddie nodded. He glanced out the window to watch the old guy cross the street before focusing back on his hands. 

Longing for contact, he slid his thumb over what Venom had left of them in his palms before scratching his eyebrow in indecision. Considering his options for a moment longer, he reached down to grab his phone from his pocket. Wrestling with uncertain fingers, he unlocked the screen and pulled up Aaron's message again. 

The words stared back at him while he hovered over the keyboard before closing the app and turning the screen off. Annoyed with Barnes's threat, he put it upside down on the table with a sigh. He wanted answers, still, to so many questions, but everyone able to provide them had some vague ties to Barnes as well. 

Without meaning to, Eddie caught Joey's eyes when he looked back up from his phone. To his surprise, Joey held his gaze determinedly. Far less daydreamy than he used to. Pointedly instead. Almost as if he was trying to tell Eddie something while he still waited for some permission to approach the booth. 

Suddenly, Eddie remembered the last time he'd seen the old guy from before. Remembered the pictures Venom took of him getting into Aaron's truck with Barnes. 

Instantly, his eyes rushed back to watch the window and the street outside although the old guy was long gone. 

"Fuck," Eddie breathed, already scrambling out his booth. He grabbed his phone with one hand and his jacket with the other although he had no doubt those would have been safe with Joey if he'd left them behind. 

Either all his senses were heightened due to the adrenaline or Venom was looking out for him, because his feet were solid in the snow and steady with every step. 

As he rushed across the street and down the sidewalk his lungs burned up for a second from the cold, then numbed comfortably. Eddie knew he was good for a sprint any day, but his stamina wouldn't have held up if it wasn't for his symbiote. Venom melted deeper into him, settled into every last muscle and pushed sugar and oxygen through his veins to keep him going and keep his legs from getting sore. 

The view up and down the street was distorted by the falling snow and every noise was softened once it had settled. It was instinct guiding them through the dark and although Eddie felt that they had been going in the right direction, they soon stood alone at a crossroad, empty space and deserted pavement all around them. 

"Where did he go?" Eddie asked, panting in the cold. His breaths were illuminated by the glow of the streetlight above them. The sweat on his forehead and neck cooled painfully against his heated skin and he began dreading the walk home. 

He was about to turn, try and see if he could spot another figure anywhere when he noticed the headlights moving towards them, shining onto the slippery road. They were tinted more yellow than white, and the mirror on the inside seemed to be partly broken on the left. It was an old car and given the position of the lights it was a big car. A truck. 

Eddie couldn't tear his eyes from the approaching vehicle although he was left blinded and stood out vulnerably on the empty sidewalk. 

Venom was tightening in all his weak spots, preparing for the worst. They didn't move Eddie to the side though, let him take on the risk of being run over by an angry Barnes who had somehow watched him chase the old guy through the night. 

The snow beneath the tires cracked when the truck came to a halt just a couple of feet from Eddie. The engine stuttered for a second, then the driver stirred it back to life and the car moved forward again, slowly until its passenger side aligned with Eddie's feet. 

Then nothing. 

The sound of the idle engine was muffled by the snow and the breeze coming in from the coast, and by Eddie's breaths that resounded in his throat, his temples and his ears. 

The inside of the truck's cabin was dark, and the streetlight gave only conture to vague shadows. The driver's face, their entire body, was impossible to make out. For all Eddie knew, a gun could have been pointed at him right that second. Thanks to Venom he might live long enough to hear the bullet that was aiming to kill them. It was the only consolation he had. 

He stared through the window into the truck, sure that he was staring into the barrel of a rifle, but unable to look away. 

The sound of the truck's horn sent a jarring shock through Eddie's body and he could feel the muscles of his shoulders and thighs jump through alien mass that kept him steadily positioned. 

"How many, love?" Eddie asked silently, curling his fingers into a tight fist before releasing them. The tension was still there afterwards. 

"Just the driver, Eddie," Venom informed him. 

With his teeth clenched, Eddie reached for the handle of the door before courage and recklessness could leave him, throwing it open almost violently. 

The warm air from the cabin hit him like smoke and he blinked. The overhead light seemed to be broken because the face of the driver remained distorted by shadows. The hands on the wheel were glowing though, in a faint red from the traffic lights behind. They were both made of bones and flesh, covered in skin, not metal. And they were wrinkly, a little shaky even and Eddie realized that he wasn't going to die. 

"You need a ride back to the motel?" the old guy asked, confirming that he'd recognized Eddie from the day in McFarlane's office. "Or the diner?" he added with a twist in his tone. It read like an accusation to Eddie who, though guilty of following him, wasn't going to admit to it ever.   
  
Part of Eddie wanted to jump at the opportunity to keep working his investigation, ask more questions. About McFarlane and the motel, about Barnes and the other day, about Aaron. Aaron who, --if Eddie was to give him the benefit of the doubt--, most likely hadn't lied to him. Who had lent his truck to this friend of McFarlane's, now a friend to Aaron too. This old guy in need of help from time to time. In need of a helping metal hand. 

Barnes was charming enough to con an old man into giving him all the things he wanted in exchange. The truck, the key to a beach plum summer cabin, a good word in with all the locals. 

But Barnes's threat still rang loudly in Eddie's head and this, --getting into the truck and putting his nose into the old man's business--, was too close to the flame. Eddie couldn't risk getting burned or setting someone else on fire as collateral damage. 

"No-," Eddie started although it hurt him to decline. "No thanks. I've got, um-" he gestured further down the road, "- a date," he finished with the first thing that came to mind. "Thanks again though." 

There was a pause in which nothing happened. Eddie couldn't be sure, but believed to see the smallest nod coming from the driver's side. Then maybe the idea of a smile on one half of the old guy's face. Maybe a flicker from the street lamp or a trick of some other light. 

"I better go," Eddie said into the silence between them, framed by the noise of the engine working through the cold temperatures. 

Another empty pause. Then the old man shifted behind the wheel. 

"Have a good night then," he said and Eddie nodded in return. 

"You too," he told him, wondering if he'd somehow angered the guy. Whether the unspoken words had been some sort of disapproval. However, it was a small price to pay considering that Eddie had tried to spare both their lives tonight. 

Eddie nodded once more, before pushing the passenger door shut with his palm pressed flat against the icy surface. 

He wiped off the melted frost against his jeans, pulling the cuff of his sleeve as far down as it would go, and warmed his hand back up in the pocket of his jacket. 

"I shouldn't have run after him," he said to Venom as he watched the taillights of the truck disappear in the falling snow. "Should have listened to what I've been told for once." 

"This was more fun," Venom told him, loosening all around his body. Retreating inside. 

"Maybe," Eddie allowed but he was smiling. "This is fucked up," he stated, shaking his head in disbelief. "Barnes, the snap, this past year. All of it." 

He knocked one foot against the other to coax some of the snow sticking to his shoes to fall off. Then he looked up for a second, taking in the surreal winter scenery. It was almost peaceful, almost innocent. 

"But I guess, we've been through worse," Eddie added, more to himself. He'd almost lost Venom that one time. And nothing compared. None of his ugly nightmares did, none of his twisted anxieties. Not even the depression. 

When Venom stayed silent, Eddie brought his hand up over his heart again, doubling down on a connection that was there anyway. Always. 

"Don't fall asleep on me," he said quietly, tapping a finger against the thickly padded front of his jacket. 

"We have, Eddie," they agreed then, "been through worse." The symbiote's voice felt distant and Eddie wondered if he'd accidentally sent Venom down a memory lane from long before they'd met. Images, thoughts and emotions that weren't inaccessible to Eddie but were beyond what he could comprehend. Possibly for the best. 

"Come on," Eddie said gently as he turned to make his way back deeper into town. "I still owe us dinner." 

The tip of his nose was numb but his cheeks were flushed when he returned to the diner to find that it had begun to clear out by now. The family was gone and so was the couple. This time, Eddie tipped up a couple of fingers to greet Joey but took his seat from before, seeking some space for his thoughts and his symbiote. He waved him over though after one useless glance onto the menu. He couldn't focus on a single word. 

Joey didn't let him wait, headed over immediately. Yet Eddie was surprised when the kid seemed to have lost most of his old flustered self.

"You okay?" Eddie asked him, although it definitely wasn't his business. 

"We're closing soon," was all Joey had to say to that. Possibly hinting that Eddie wasn't welcome anymore. 

"Want me to leave?" Eddie asked bluntly. Direct communication and all. He appreciated it. Had learned its value, sponsored by his alien symbiote. 

Joey glanced towards the door for a second before shaking his head no. Eddie nodded, drawing his own conclusions. 

"Did someone else give you good advice?" he guessed, pressing a hand down on the menu in front of him, smoothing it out. 

Joey nodded, but he reached for his notepad and got his pen ready. 

"Just get me something to warm up," Eddie decided. "And something chocolatey on the side." 

"That might take a while," Joey warned. As he saw that Eddie took it for another subtle hint to leave, he put his hand down on Eddie's arm, just above his elbow. "Just so you know," he added quickly, looking down at his hand. His eyes widened as if he only realized then what he'd done, his face going bright red immediately. 

"Okay," Eddie just said, drawing out the word but keeping his voice low. He leaned back into the seat to signal his staying. He wasn't quite able yet to make sense of all of this. 

"I'll be back with your food," Joey told him, his hand still out mid-air as if he was afraid to claim it back as part of his body. 

Eddie, with his decision to stay, got comfortable again. He would wait Joey out, wait for the answers to more of his questions. Still agitated from before, he pulled out his phone again and placed it on the table in front of him. As he watched the blank screen, he wiped some dust off its edges. Surely, Captain America wouldn't wait too long to contact a citizen in need. Hopefully, he wouldn't take too long. 

With the extra time he suddenly seemed to have on his hands, Eddie contemplated texting Aaron back. Letting him know that he'd met the friend who borrowed the truck. As a reporter, Eddie didn't believe in the benefit of the doubt, so part of him wanted to see how Aaron would react. 

Nothing had changed though, between them. Eddie had fled his house, had fallen back into bed with his symbiote. Whatever chemistry had lingered between him and Aaron would have been altered in the wake. Just how much, Eddie didn't want to find out just yet. 

He hadn't thought himself the kind of guy that just ghosted people when he was overwhelmed dealing with them. And yet here he was, ignoring someone just because their date went bad. 

"You can stop now," Eddie muttered, watching the reflections in the window. None of the remaining guests were paying him any attention, were busy finishing their food or lost in conversation. 

"Stop what, Eddie?" Venom asked, sneaking a couple of tendrils down Eddie's chest and back. 

"Muting the pain," he told them, glanced back on his phone. Willing it to ring. But the harder he wished for something to stir, the deader it looked. With one finger, he spun it slowly around its center, dragging it around like a corpse. 

He was surprised how little he cared about what he'd just said. About what it meant. About what he'd asked and admitted by asking. Bringing it up hadn't disrupted anything within. The opposite was true. He felt calm and in control. 

"You want us to feel everything?" Venom asked. 

Eddie thought for another second. "Maybe not everything," he said then. "You could spare me those sore muscles from the sprint." 

It was difficult to pinpoint what he was looking for. Something to ground him in all this chaos. He was prepared to go to work and push this story forward. He wanted Rogers to call, not because he was desperate, or because he was recklessly itching to put him on the spot, --outsmart him--, but because he was ready to get this over with. This story. He was ready to sign his name in print. Anchor himself in this new world that he had been thrown into. Be accountable for something again. Be a person again. Visible. With evidence. 

"You're underestimating our body, Eddie," Venom remarked, interrupting Eddie's thoughts. 

"I know _you're_ tough as hell," he told them, thankful for the company to keep his mind from slipping into misery. 

"We," Venom corrected. 

"No," Eddie argued, "I'm weak." He felt weak most times these days. Vulnerable everywhere. Susceptible to temptation. Debilitatingly human.

"We," Venom insisted again. 

Eddie shook his head. "No, we're not weak, love." He was going to say more, but Venom wouldn't let him.

"No, we're not," they agreed, sounding pleased. 

They sat there in silence for a bit until Joey brought over their food, and Eddie and Venom shared it like they always did. As they ate, the other guests left, one by one, until the diner emptied all the way. 

Joey dropped off a goodie bag filled with free food in passing, making his way from the tables to the kitchen. Then he dropped off two hot chocolates on his way from the kitchen to the bar, and left Eddie the check in passing as he headed for the door to turn the sign. 

Eddie watched his back, watched him gather some more courage before he walked back to the booth. Then he hovered for a second before sitting down opposite of Eddie, dropping with stiff determination onto the seat. Afterward, Eddie thought he witnessed that same kind of panic in his features from before. 

He looked at Eddie almost fearful, his eyes in shock once more over the actions his body had chosen to perform. 

"Did Bess tell you to stay away from me?" Eddie asked, thinking he would help both of them by glossing over the awkwardness of the moment. 

"No?" Joey said immediately. His tone carried a bit of confusion. As if the question surprised him, as if he doubted that he'd heard right. 

"Barnes?" Eddie tried again, realizing almost instantly that neither Barnes not Rogers would be stupid enough to use their real names. "The guy from the truck with the long hair and the bad vibes?" he corrected. 

"No," Joey said, the sentiment in his tone hadn't changed much. The name seemed to have thrown him off though. Eddie wished he hadn't mentioned it, but his regret had just a second to last. Then Joey spoke again. "His-, you know," he started, visibly unsure about his words. "His partner," Joey finished, but it sounded like a question. "His boyfriend?" This time it was definitely a question. "He said you were trouble."

"He was here?" Eddie asked as fast as he could. 

"Yeah," Joey said. Confusion doubled in his tone. "I thought-," he started then broke off. He glanced towards the door, then back at Eddie. "I thought-," he said again, frowning. "But you saw him, no? I thought you did?" 

"No," Eddie said, his voice louder than he had been aiming for. He knew he shouldn't have chased that old guy. He was most likely a dead end. Used by Barnes but without any of the substantial knowledge that Eddie was seeking.

"I thought that was why you disappeared," Joey added, matching Eddie's irritation. 

"No, no," Eddie said, much more quietly this time. They must have missed each other by just a couple of minutes. Rogers didn't have a reputation of being the threatening kind, but he was known to only walk his own path. Especially when it came to Barnes and keeping him from being taken into custody. He was a loose cannon and Eddie wondered if he had made a mistake giving away his number. Maybe Barnes would have been a more predictable negotiator, the safer bet. 

Mildly to moderately stressed, Eddie wiped his face with both hands. All of his curses he saved for Venom. It wasn't Joey's business to learn his frustrations. 

"I was just-," his gaze hit the window and cut his thoughts off. "We shouldn't be sitting here for everyone to see." 

"Why?" Joey asked. "Because we've got something to hide?"

Eddie didn't like the implications of this. "No," he said. ”Because you don't fuck with people who give off bad vibes."

"So we hide from them?" Joey guessed. 

"We'll wait until we know more," Eddie told him, but regretted immediately how he'd phrased it. He didn't like allowing himself to be drawn into another ' _we_ ' situation. He already had a ' _we_ ' situation. A very exclusive ' _we_ ' situation. 

"Yes, _we_ ," Venom echoed lovingly in his head. Eddie nodded without meaning to, then addressed Joey again. 

"Look," he started, putting on his most serious expression. "You shouldn't trust me. You shouldn't trust them either. You shouldn't trust any stranger showing up here out of nowhere, okay? Take it from me, all of us are bad news." 

"Whatever," Joey said, his tone reflecting his disappointment. He slid out of the booth with his head down. Eddie looked up at him once he stood. 

"I'm just looking out for you," he promised. Sincerely hoping he could keep his word. 

* * *

Though he felt awful, Eddie hadn't passed on the free food. He'd taken it all back to the motel to feed himself and his symbiote. He stored his shoes beneath the heater and his socks on it.

Barefoot in front of his bed, he eyed up the chair that Barnes had sat in. Pictured him there. Allowed himself to stare through memory. Barnes wasn't with them now, he and Venom weren't in danger, so it was safe to look. Imagine. Barnes's shoulders and upper arms, muscles and metal indistinguishable beneath the fabric of his jacket. His lips when he spoke, calling Eddie out on his lies. His eyes. Even more confusing in person than they were in the pictures. 

Barnes was out there now and he was someone to run from. And yet, Eddie had run towards him, chasing him here. 

"Eddie?" Venom said softly, bringing him back from his thoughts. They wound themself around Eddie's ankles and up his legs. 

"I'm here, love," Eddie said. He checked his phone for any missed calls and then tossed it onto the bed. "I'm all yours," he added, unbuttoning his jeans until they fell. 

"We don't want to think about him," they admitted. Eddie nodded. In understanding more than agreement. He didn't _want_ to think about Barnes either. He didn't want to have to think about him. He didn't want to be curious. Didn't want to feel compelled to find out what it was about Barnes that made him feel uneasy. Uneasy about calling him a terrorist. About calling him violent and dangerous. About calling him just violent and dangerous. Just a criminal. But not knowing his story made Eddie feel uneasy. Not knowing _him_ made Eddie feel uneasy. 

"Distract me then," Eddie said. He stripped off his shirt and ran both his palms down his chest and over his stomach. 

Venom's head came up from behind Eddie, a wet void, glossy and terrifying and so, so mesmerizing. Their eyes and teeth stood out predatorily, a deadly statement of evolution. The perfect distraction. 

"Let's hope we didn't get anyone killed tonight," Eddie said, leaning back and into Venom comfortably, the sides of their faces connecting, merging, melting into one another. 

"Is it our business?" Venom asked, taking hold of Eddie's shoulder and back. 

"If I'll swear to avenge each and every one of them, will you make it our business?" Eddie asked. He closed his eyes without meaning to. His focus shifted to his other senses, his own and Venom's, making him experience their proximity in multitudes. 

"Happily, Eddie," Venom assured him. They wrapped even more of themself around his body, but Eddie felt most of their touch on the inside, beneath his skin more than on it. He allowed himself to relish in the feeling of being his symbiote's home. 

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Eddie asked, his hand reaching for Venom's head beside his own. He didn't just stop at their cheek and jawline, but let his fingers wander over Venom's teeth, feeling along their edges with his thumb. 

"We?" Venom asked, making Eddie laugh. 

"Yes, we," he told them, turning so they would face each other. He kissed Venom between the eyes, his fingers curling and dipping into the symbiote's jaw. "Let me see your tongue," Eddie added, his voice low and quiet. 

Venom let just the tip slide between his teeth and Eddie nudged the side of his thumb against it.

"More," he demanded in just a whisper. Venom humored him, allowing more of his tongue to be seen, allowing Eddie to trace it down with his finger.

Then up again with his own tongue. 

"Gross, Eddie," Venom said, their words forming against Eddie's parted lips. 

"Shut up," Eddie told them, placing a kiss at the corner of Venom's mouth. "You knew I was going to do that. You wanted it. You liked it," he reminded them before adding much more quietly, "like I wanted it. Like I liked it." 

Venom seemed pleased with his confession, their eyes fixed on him. Eddie kissed them again, lips against teeth, bringing their foreheads together. 

"You make me really happy, you know that?" Eddie said. "And I don't wanna stop being happy." 

Venom curled the tip of their tongue upwards, nudging Eddie's chin first, then sliding it over the side of his throat and around his neck. Sending shivers down Eddie's body on its trail.

Grabbing the symbiote by their jawline and teeth, his hands submerged in Venom's skull, Eddie pulled them towards his body, wanting more. 

He stepped out of his jeans and kicked the pile out of the way, eager to get his boxers off too. He wanted to be skin on skin with Venom, wanted to see and feel their touch everywhere. 

To Venom it was both their body and all parts of his body were equally _them_ , were equally theirs. Their only concern was not having it look stupid in public. Aside from that they knew about shame only from Eddie's lesser moments. From his memories and their early days together, full of squirming and blushing, of trying to keep to himself what was impossible to hide from his symbiote. 

For a while Venom had delighted in his quickening heartbeat, in the hot flushes and all his arousal that was prompted by being wanted for things he had never imagined being wanted for by anyone. 

Now, Eddie regretted ever worrying, doubting and being embarrassed. And unintentionally teaching the symbiote about it. Now he delighted in pushing his body against Venom, into them, letting them know he wanted them everywhere. Inside old injuries and scarred skin. In every graying hair and looming bald spot. In the rough skin over the curve of his heels and in the veins along the slightly odd curve of his cock. In all the weight he'd gained. 

"Do you still love me?" Eddie asked, finally getting those words out. He would have let himself tumble back first onto the bed, pulling Venom along with clingy hands, yet they softened his fall. Lowered him gently. 

"Eddie," Venom started, his name always the first thing on their mind. It almost sounded like a warning. 

"Needy?" Eddie offered. His fingers grazed over his skin, over Venom, over both their body. It was growing more difficult to tell apart. 

"Stupid, Eddie," they corrected. Their head looking twice its size hovering over him and twice as hungry. "We feel what you feel." 

"Well, I'm in love," Eddie told them. He cradled Venom's face in his open hands. Gently brushed his palms over their eyes and they closed them at the touch. 

"And _I-_ ," Venom started tentatively. 

A small shock ran through Eddie to hear them referring to themself like that. Their voice gave away their unfamiliarity with that word, that one letter, and the entire concept behind it. Eddie watched them, waiting for them to continue with patience. Watching them learn as they spoke. Watching them try to communicate such foreign things in Eddie's language. Watching them tenderly. 

"I protect you," they said. The uncertainty from before had vanished from their voice. "I look for you when we're separated. I miss you when you sleep."

"Don't say _I_." Eddie swallowed, trying to keep his cool. He wasn't cool and he didn't mean what he was saying. He was battling emotions that moved him in long forgotten depths. "Makes me petrified that you're going to leave me," he said, but fear wasn't what he was feeling. 

He was crushing all over, falling for Venom, for them as his and for them as their own. And having his feelings returned all over again made him awfully hormonal. Awfully good hormonal. Sent more adrenaline through him, more dopamine, more endorphins. More phenethylamine. 

"Fine," Venom said. Eddie could tell by their expression that they were noticing the influx in happiness. In love. That they were giddy with anticipation. They were looking forward to feasting on it. " _We-_ ," they stressed, "-are bonded," they went on. "We're chemistry. We should move in together." 

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, grinning. He loved Venom, but he worshipped their humor. "You think we're ready for that?" 

"Only one way to find out," they said, pushing their forehead against Eddie's without slipping into his body. 

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asked. He reached for more of them, arching his back on instinct. 

"Yours is looking comfortable," Venom said. They took Eddie's wordless invitation and pressed more of themself against his stomach and chest, wrapping a strong arm around his waist. "You make us want to bite you again."

"And you make me want to lick your tongue again," Eddie told them, laughing when Venom pulled away from him at once. The distance lasted for just a second though, then it was Venom seeking another kiss from their host. 


	3. Chapter 3

Eddie lay awake for hours after Venom had quieted, after they had grown drowsy and had eventually slipped from their shared consciousness into the privacy of sleep. His body ached in all the right ways from making out with Venon for hours, from Venom's teeth against his skin, and at times his own, aiming for the symbiote but finding only parts of his own body. 

Venom was scattered all around him, loosely connected threads in all shapes and sizes spread all across the bed. Not just there. They were all over his skin, slowing his hands with threats between his fingers and around his wrists. They were on his lips, inky spots that parted only reluctantly whenever a yawn took hold of him. 

Though Venom's mind felt distant from their sleep, their senses were open to Eddie's perception, and he felt the sheets where he wasn't lying, felt the faint vibrations of the whirring mini fridge in the air, and the echo of his own heartbeat, the pace of his blood. 

He was sticky everywhere, from sweat, saliva and semen from two and a half orgasms. They were making up for more difficult times, bringing old habits back to life. In the dark, Eddie was smiling, filling his lungs with love on every breath, nurturing his soul and his symbiote. 

With gentle compassion, and some habitual melancholy, Eddie eyed up all the leftovers they'd taken from the diner. They wouldn't need them anymore. Would probably throw half of the food away by the end of tomorrow night. There wasn't a trace of hunger in Venom, and not a trace of hunger in him. Appetite though, --enough for two--, for the first time in months. 

And so he got up as quietly as he could, wondering why he was even awake. Why the sex seemed to tire out only Venom while his body worked itself through a string of different sensations. 

His brain high on happy hormones, the rush lasting for as long as Venom managed to hold themself back. Once they began soaking all of it up, Eddie was left in recovery limbo. 

It was a bit of an up and down these days. The trickle of contentment wasn't as steady as it used to be. But the up and down was miles better than the constant low of the past year. He didn't believe in rock bottom, --things could always get worse--, but sitting in the pit of his apathy, his exhaustion, and his despair throughout this year, he hadn't felt too far from it. The scope of his misery seemed more palpable now that he'd turned a corner. He could still feel it everywhere, the pain of his depression, and he didn't doubt that it would sit with him for a while. And he was terrified that this was nothing but a fluke, the intimacy, the sex, being synced to his symbiote. 

He ate in silence for a while, tasted himself through a couple of day-old pastry, sipping on a juice box, while mapping the patterns of symbiote splatter on the bed and on the floor in front of him. The sheets he'd washed and then never retrieved came to him and he grimaced, feeling embarrassed for a moment. 

"Screw it," he decided then, heading back for the bed. He'd care again in the morning or pay his dues during checkout. 

As he crawled over the mattress on all fours, exhaustion began to instantly seep into all limbs of his body, his muscles growing heavy. He was looking for his spot from before, but Venom pulled him down before he could find it. 

With his eyes closed he focused on his breaths, listening through Venom's senses more than his own. Finding as much comfort and relaxation in the soothing rhythm as he imagined the symbiote did. 

All of his bodily functions turned into white noise around him, a gentle, timeless fog. 

He shouldn't have tuned into Venom so predominantly, because the buzz of his phone vibrating ripped through his meditating state like a chainsaw, sending him, --and Venom-- upright within a split second. 

"Eddie!" Venom cried, both out loud and ever-present in Eddie's mind. 

The shock and jolt had left Eddie's body partly human, partly nightmarish alien monster, and his heartbeat was hammering impossibly loud through his head. Venom's teeth were hanging off the top of his head, scratching his ears, and alien flesh was covering most of his chest and arms. Covering all of his belly and his hands too. 

"No danger," Eddie forced out as he tried orienting himself and overcoming his panic. "We're not in danger, love." He was trying to calm Venom as much as himself. "It's just the phone."

It took him another second to regain control of his hands and he had to blink twice before the blurry mess on the screen turned into words. An unknown number was trying to reach him. 

He swiped a couple of times to pick up, but the touch screen was unresponsive to the symbiote's skin. 

Eddie shook out his hand until, after another stressful moment of vibrating rings, Venom retreated and finally exposed Eddie's naked fingertips. 

"Yes?" he answered, pressed the phone as close to his ear as it would go. "Hello?" He closed his eyes, put all his focus into his ears. There was silence at the end of the line. The kind of silence that was beyond telling. The kind that gave everything away. 

Until it was wiped out. 

"Is this Eddie?" a voice asked, faintly distorted given the bad signal.

Eddie thought it vaguely familiar, but had trouble recognizing the voice without a face to match. Like an actor's voice reading an audiobook or giving life to an animated character. 

Like a superhero's voice only heard on TV a couple of times. In news segments and low budget PSAs. 

A superhero like Captain America.

"Yeah," Eddie said quickly, his body shifting from panic into excitement. "Yeah it's me," he rushed out. "I'm-, I'm here." 

"What trouble are you in?" Rogers asked, getting straight to it. Though his voice seemed a little strained, his tone was oddly vibrant for ass o'clock in the middle of the fucking night. Eddie didn't know if it was an attempt to fabricate a different time zone or whether Barnes and Rogers had simply wanted to catch him off guard. 

"I'd rather not say over the phone," Eddie said, realizing that Rogers wasn't going to introduce himself. He suppressed the impulse to clear his throat, because he didn't want to give them the satisfaction of succeeding with their surprise. "Can we meet in person?" he asked instead. 

"Look," Rogers said. Although his tone wasn't particularly friendly, he didn't manage to entirely eliminate the compassion he was so famously known for. And not just his compassion. Even through the mediocre connection of their call, Eddie could tell it was his conscientiousness that had made him pick up the phone and dial Eddie's number. And it was obvious that Rogers wasn't a hundred percent happy with his compulsive sense of duty. "You understand that we have a bit of a trust issue here, right?" Rogers asked, unable to tell Eddie to just fuck off with his special requests. 

"I'm no threat," Eddie assured him, knowing it wasn't true. Even if he didn't plan on posing one, being Venom _and_ being a reporter, he was the biggest threat of all. 

Venom liked that thought, of course they did, and they rewarded Eddie with more skin contact. Eddie closed his eyes, allowed himself just a second of distraction. 

"And I'd like to believe that," Rogers said diplomatically. 

"But?" Eddie asked, forcing his brain to return to the conversation. He wiped more bits and pieces of Venom off the side of his head, hoping it would help clear his head in different ways. 

"But I don't know you, do I?" Rogers asked. 

Eddie's heartbeat picked up and Venom began moving in and around him again. Both of them were growing impatient, edging the other on and he couldn't tell who'd started it. 

"Not well," Eddie tried, tightened his grip on his phone. Willing Rogers to give into doubt. 

"Or not at all?" Rogers guessed instead. Or he already knew. 

Eddie chose to ignore the remark. Sooner or later he would have to admit anyway that he hadn't actually met Rogers at the gym. He wasn't going to fight for this one. The lie had served just a single purpose, to establish contact. Eddie was ready to move on now. He was ready to level up his deception to maintain the connection. 

"I need help," he lied again. "I'm in a tight spot." 

"I can't help you," Rogers told him right away. He didn't take even a second to think about it. 

"Why not?" Eddie asked. 

This time Rogers chose to overhear him. 

"I can direct you to a friend," he offered. "To someone whose job it is to help you."

Agent Carter, Eddie guessed, trying to recall the conversation he'd had with her. Trying to recall every piece of information he'd given away. His name and his number. His occupation. The name of his newspaper. Fuck. 

He took a moment to assess his chances. At the time, he was convinced that Carter wasn't in contact with Rogers. Now, he wasn't entirely sure anymore. There was no way to tell whether or not Rogers already knew who he was and what he was up to. No other way than to play along for as long as possible. And be prepared for anything. 

"I don't trust anyone else." Eddie argued. 

"You'll have to," Rogers just said. Once again, he didn't even take a second to consider. 

"Help me," Eddie pleaded. He was fed up with the delays. He wanted his investigation to move ahead, not back and behind. This time, too, his desperation was real enough to cover his lie. "Please, help me." 

"What trouble are you in then?" Rogers asked again. 

"I'm-, I have-," Eddie started. Stumbled. "-a situation." He looked down to his free hand in his lap and its alien sleeve. "I have something some people would kill me for." It was the truth in his lie that gave his voice more confidence than it deserved. That laced it with the certainty of impending doom. 

Finally, this seemed to give Rogers pause. He needed a beat longer than before to take in Eddie's explanation. A beat longer before he replied. 

"I can't protect you," Rogers said then. His words were strong, but Eddie could tell they were decisive out of necessity. Not choice. "Whatever you have," Rogers added, "I don't want it." 

"I wouldn't give it to you," Eddie informed him. The desperation in his voice had vanished. His feelings for Venom were bleeding into his lie, betraying him even when it wasn't really the symbiote who he was referring to. 

"Then get rid of it some other way," Rogers told him. It sounded more like an order than advice. 

"I can't," Eddie said. "It's inside me. It's like-," he paused. He wanted to walk that thin line between truth and deception once more. Wanted to use it for his advantage without putting Venom at risk. "It's like an implant." 

Eddie was prepared to argue an entire case of made up facts and stretched truths. How the implant was most likely developed sometime a hundred years ago, maybe alongside the serum, how no one alive knew what to do with that, how he'd talked to doctors and scientists and how Rogers was the only one left on earth equipped to help him survive. 

But something had changed. Noticeably. Somehow, unintentionally, Eddie had struck a nerve. 

The other end of the line had gone dead silent again. The telling kind of silent. Rogers wasn't waiting, wasn't pondering. Wasn't just thinking. He was processing. In the same manner he'd processed earlier. Sorting through a decision he'd just made. Managing it. 

"What does it do?" Rogers asked eventually. 

Eddie took a deep breath, to come up with an answer as vague as possible in order to keep Rogers's interest in him. Keep Rogers's worries for him. 

"Changing me, I think." Eddie said. 

"Are you alone?" Rogers asked and Eddie thought it was a little late for that question. 

"Yes," he said while running his fingers through Venom's body. He was alone with his symbiote. Just how it was supposed to be. 

"Don't go anywhere, don't ask any more questions," Rogers said and Eddie nodded along to the all familiar words. 

"What do I do instead?" he wondered. He had nowhere to go, but he was notoriously bad at doing what he was told. Especially if he was asked to let things go. 

"You wait," Rogers informed him. Then the line went dead. 

Eddie checked his phone, expecting a loss of signal to be the reason the call had been cut off so abruptly. It wasn't. Apparently, Steve had simply hung up on him. Eddie rolled his eyes. 

Overall though, he was pleased and smiled at some faceless spot of Venom on his thigh. Steve had called and he had taken the bait. 

"Bit of a drama queen though," he muttered as he glanced back on his phone. Making sure the call was disconnected. He didn't need Steve overhearing his commentary. "Both of them actually," he added, stretched his arms out above his head. He ran his fingers through his hair, finding more of Venom. 

"Takes one to know one," Venom remarked. They had retrieved the rest of their jaw from Eddie's scalp and were moving their head around into view. 

Eddie squeezed their cheek, smiling when Venom pulled back in irritation. 

"We're normal, love," he informed them. He laced his fingers behind his neck and sank back into the pillows. He wasn't joking. He didn't care what others said about them. They were trying to make ends meet like everyone else, trying to get by. "Wouldn't you say?" he asked rather absently as he watched Venom lower their head onto his chest. 

"Abhorrently boring, Eddie," Venom agreed. Eddie believed it was how they truly felt as well. They hadn't caused trouble as a team in so long. And by the looks of it, things weren't changing anytime soon.

"I guess now we're staying put _and_ wait while doing nothing and being boring," he said. Having Venom this close again, he couldn't resist bringing one arm back around to run his fingernails down the side of Venom's head. "I'm sorry, we had to wake up like that," he said.

He picked up his phone again, contemplating turning it off for the rest of the night. More than anything, he wanted to be undisturbed from now on. To protect both of them from another surprise call. He wanted to shut the world out instead, while he and Venom enjoyed some more close contact. 

Within that same thought, his eyes snapped up to the window in sudden panic, his brain picturing Barnes and Rogers watching him as they'd called. Watching him sleep, watching him wake, watching the symbiote turn themself inside out by accident. 

But the curtains were shut just as neatly as he'd closed them before, the fabric perfectly still. 

"There's no one outside, is there?" he asked Venom just to be sure. 

"We're alone, Eddie," Venom assured him. Confirming what Eddie already knew from sharing their senses. 

"We're reckless," Eddie corrected, his throat painfully dry at once. He swallowed the shock down and his own disappointment with it. "I shouldn't have coaxed you out as much as I did." 

Venom knew what was coming, they were in all of Eddie's thoughts, all of his worries. 

"We can't keep doing this," Eddie told them. He didn't want to go back to his old excuses, but they were luring him back in. "You should stay inside more, V," he explained, dissociating from his words. "Even when it's just us. When we're alone. When-," he cut himself off there. Bringing his other hand around too, he pressed his palms flat on Venom's head, squishing them in an attempt to force them back inside his body. 

Venom just flattened themself over his chest, sliding down his ribs. Instead of feeling inconvenienced, they were growing more and more comfortably under the slight pressure of Eddie's hands, their tongue falling out the side of their mouth. 

"It's safer for you," Eddie argued. Then he gave up and let his hands drop to his sides. He wanted to cling to this belief, because the opposite meant hating himself for giving into his fears. 

"I'll protect us," Venom just said. They were more interested in using the tip of their tongue to bother Eddie's nipple. 

"Don't say _I_ ," Eddie said reflexively, nudging them away from a sensitive spot. He knew that Venom was making a point again, but this time it wasn't a point he liked hearing. 

"We're not in danger, Eddie," they assured him again. 

"I want to believe you," he said. Giving in, he placed his hands on Venom's temples, traced the curve of their eyes with his thumbs. "'Cause I love seeing your face."

"Symbiotes don't have a face," Venom reminded him. "Not when we're unbonded. Yours is our face." 

Eddie shook his head slowly. He wasn't as fond of his face as he was of Venom's. "Will you just let me keep you safe?" he asked. 

"Fine," Venom said stubbornly. They rose off Eddie's chest, bringing enough distance between them for the loss of weight and warmth to make itself known on Eddie's skin. 

"Fine," Eddie mimicked. 

More and more of Venom, of what was left covering his lap, thighs and stomach, and all those scattered strings and threads across the bed made their way back to Eddie's body. Eddie watched them disappear beneath his skin, surrendering to the sensation. He drew circles with his fingers where Venom had slipped inside. Once he noticed what he was doing, he pulled back embarrassed. 

"Feels good, Eddie," Venom said. Eddie looked up, discovering that he was being watched. "Don't stop," they added. Apparently, they had decided to keep their head out in the open for now. 

The constant company, the sensation of being watched by his symbiote, having to explain himself at random, none of it was unfamiliar. Eddie had gotten so used to it over the course of their time together that the audience rarely affected his self-consciousness, had rarely enhanced it. 

Now, his hands stilled in irritation. 

Something new was hanging in the air between them. Something tight and tasty, full of sexual tension. Something he'd only caught a first glimpse of a couple of days ago. 

_We feel what you feel_ , Venom had preached. Yet when he glanced down at himself, he found himself still soft, his dick uninterested in his clumsy, fumbling touches. 

"What are you up to?" Eddie asked. He reached for Venom, for their jaw. Although he probably should at one point, he was too tired now, too caught up to assess his recent obsession with their mouth. Instead, he grazed his fingers along their teeth. Venom closed their eyes, somehow enjoying Eddie's touch as much as he did. Then they shook their head slowly. 

"Nothing, Eddie," they said, pulling free from Eddie's hands. They retreated fully then, their head shrinking, dissolving into a black mess that disappeared back into Eddie's body. Their tone had only poorly contained what Eddie recognized undeniably as excitement, as arousal. 

"Nothing, huh," Eddie muttered. "Again?" He stared at the ceiling for a second before he closed his eyes and let his fingers roam over his skin. It was odd, how he knew every shape of some of his tattoos while he couldn't recall the complete outline of others. And a handful, he regularly forgot he even had. 

The longer he touched himself, the more uncomfortable he became. Over the past year, he'd lost touch with himself -- and painfully literally so. He didn't know what to do with his own two hands anymore. Frustrated, on an ill-advised impulse, he went straight for his dick, wrapping his fingers around himself with little finesse. 

He gave himself a couple of strokes, but his hand was too dry and his body too warm and his mind elsewhere. 

"Fuck this," he said, blinking his eyes open. A frown formed along his brows. _We feel what you feel_ , Eddie recalled again, but Venom seemed to have their own, independent desires. "Why are you horny when I'm not?" he asked, suspicious of his symbiote's mood. 

"We like when you touch our body," Venom told him. They didn't bother to show though. Eddie got the feeling they were punishing him for his safety precautions. Teaching him a lesson. Enjoying how much he missed them already. 

"That's all?" Eddie wondered. He looked down at himself again to see if something had changed. It hadn't. His dick was resting limply against the side of his thigh. 

"That's all," Venom said too innocently to be believed. 

Eddie shrugged. Though they had shared more in the past days than all year, as long as Eddie claimed some rights to secrecy, Venom was entitled to the same degree of privacy. 

Curious now, Eddie ran his fingertips through the hairs on his chest, pretending it wasn't his own touch, but Venom's. Then grazed them over the thinner ones on his stomach, pretending his hands were more human. As he trailed them down the thickening pattern from his navel to the base of his cock, he was fed up with pretending. 

"I want it to hurt again," he said, waiting for Venom to do their magic. 

They didn't, refusing to give him what he needed. Refusing to show as well. 

"Come on," he almost pleaded then. "Wasn't this what you wanted just a minute ago?" 

Venom still didn't answer, but their head reappeared, hovering above him with more distance than was necessary. Their eyes had that faint glow again, the rest of their face impossible to make out in the dark. Even their teeth were hidden from Eddie's sight. 

"Come on, love," Eddie tried again, but Venom just shook their head above him. "So that's how we're playing?" he asked, slightly rearranging his body on the mattress.

He held their eyes with determination as he reached around and pressed against those day old bruises on the back of his thighs, his breath shaking as he exhaled. 

"What are you doing, Eddie?" Venom asked. Eddie watched their tongue maneuver around those sharp teeth as they spoke. 

He really had developed the worst fixation, Venom's mouth his favorite pornography. 

"Foreplay, love," he told them. Part of him was curling ashamed while the other unfolded shamelessly. "You can help?" 

Venom shook their head again.

"You came out just to watch?" Eddie asked, biting his lips as he found a bruise from earlier that night. 

Venom nodded. 

Then Eddie nodded. He was going to allow it. 

The tenacious work his fingers did on the sore skin and those tender spots on his body was showing its effects on his cock. He was half way to fully hard already, with that unequivocal anticipation swirling through his stomach, down his groin and into his balls, reaching the tip of his cock last and igniting a painful urgency there. 

Twisting his shoulder and reaching as far down as his wrist allowed, Eddie left those bruises behind and instead pressed his fingers against his rim. He had been hoping for some left over symbiote saliva, but the skin there was as dry as his fingers. 

He was too proud now, to ask Venom for help, too spiteful and committed to his own stupidity. He had wanted some pain after all. 

With patience and care, he mapped the state of his muscles, put his other hand around his dick for distraction. The grip was familiar, his hand the only one in so long that had taken care of him and his needs. In always the same manner, always the same rhythm. 

Venom's tendrils and tentacles aside. 

He squeezed around himself gently, just to give himself something to feel as he centered the tip of one finger against his hole. 

Somewhere in the haze of his concentration, he had closed his eyes again. Opening them now, he realized that he had been rediscovering the touch of his own hand still under Venom's careful supervision. 

Eddie didn't look away from Venom's eyes as he breached the muscle with some discomfort and stroked his cock loosely to not lose his erection. 

He knew that it wasn't the kind of touch Venom had ask to feel, and that it wasn't the kind of touch, they think he deserved. But they didn't mute any of the experience and Eddie was grateful for it. 

What little precome he managed to gather did only soothe every other rub of his palm over the head of his cock, the stretch of his rim accompanied by some low-level burning and stinging as Eddie worked his middle finger deeper inside himself. 

He had no choice but to go slow, on his cock and his hole, but it was time for a new routine anyway. 

For anyone watching from the outside, the trail of Venom's gaze was impossible to tell. But not for Eddie. He saw what he could of himself through his own eyes, but the rest of himself, --all of himself--, through Venom's as well. Over time, his brain had learned to make sense of the incoming visuals in inexplicable ways, allowed him to share all of Venom's senses without any accompanying headaches or migraines. Eddie chose to focus more on Venom's view than his own, following them to wherever their attention was pulled to. 

None of this was new to Venom, but he as far as Eddie's memories went, they had always been more involved. They had always refused to not interact. They had wrapped themself around his hands or wrists, around his cock, had pushed inside him along with his fingers, or played with his cock in the same manner. 

Now, they were watching in silence as Eddie fucked himself as slow as his more impatient urges allowed. He was sweating again, under his arms and down his neck. The insides of his hands. The sweat not adding at all to the missing slickness of his touch, adding only the threat of salt to his chafing skin. 

Knowing one finger wouldn't be enough to make him come, Eddie tried to tuck the one he already got in off to the side to make room for another. 

He flinched at his first attempt and could tell by the way Venom coated his fingertips in a thin layer of slippery alien skin that they had enough of his stupidity. The second finger slid past his rim alongside the other without resistance and the gratification was so instant that Eddie forgot to complain. 

Maybe if they hadn't had made out before, hadn't had touched each other as much, maybe if Venom hadn't had their tongue up his ass before, he would have been able to tell if they were manipulating his body in other ways now. Relaxing his muscles or helping with the intrusion. But he couldn't. He could only curse in some comical bliss at the satisfying stretch. With Venom easing the penetration, he fucked himself a little rougher, deeper, moving his fingers in ways he hadn't tried before. 

He leveled his thrust with a guiding hand around his cock, rewarding himself when he didn't give in to habit and all familiar ways, and forcing himself to slow down with a chastising, harsher grip whenever he noticed himself heading straight for a release. 

Venom wanted to watch and Eddie wanted to give them a good show. Give himself a good show. 

Swallowing what was left of his shame, Eddie rolled himself over on his stomach and managed to get his knees underneath his body, pushing his hips upward. 

The position was uncomfortable, his knees unsteady and his muscles not used to this kind of strain, but Eddie didn't notice any of it. Adrenaline, he told himself, or arousal. More likely it was Venom supporting him, for their own pleasure no less. Their combined pleasure. 

_We feel what you feel._

Eddie felt naked an exposed, adding a third finger just because he could now. His dick wasn't just hard, it was heavy between his legs, the head shiny from smeared pre-come. How Eddie could tell, with the curtains drawn and the lights out, caused some confusion in his head for a second. 

Once more he'd gotten lost in Venom's senses, his breaths louder in his ears, the pounding of his heart, the sound of skin on skin in frantic labor. 

He relished in the sense of ownership, --in using his body, in having his body, in watching his body--, relished in _being_ his body to the point of existential shock. 

Everything else blurred around him and he slipped his fingers from his rim, fucking his dick more forcefully into his fist, his fist more forcefully into the mattress, the mattress against the bedframe, the bedframe against the wall and all his anger and frustration out into the world. He cursed again loudly into his pillow when he came, his face sweaty and flushed. His come was hot against his skin and blissfully slick as he stroked himself through it. 

The sweat on his back was cooling his overheated skin, but he shivered still, his thighs weak and his wrists aching. He was panting, breathless, as he came up for air. Feeling impossibly heavy, he rolled himself on his back and wiped his forehead with the crook of his elbow, careful to keep both his hands away from his face. 

Lying there in the dark, stretched out in more ways than one, with his hands on either side, a sticky mess drying around his fingers, he searched for Venom's eyes without success. The symbiote was tucked away inside his body, bathing in everything they were hungry for, in everything that made Eddie feel,--

\-- that made him feel awesome. 

The thought, the knowledge and the relief made him laugh and he scratched his nose against his arm, shaking his head over what he'd just done. 

Maybe his own face wasn't that bad. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Eddie woke up the next morning, all that he felt for a peaceful minute was calm. There was no trace of the symbiote, nothing of Venom to be seen. Not on his chest, not on the bed, not anywhere in the room. But they filled up all of his limbs and torso comfortably, moving with his bloodstream like those lobster boats out on the coast, floating along with the tides. 

Then he remembered his naked body, Rogers's phone call and what he'd done afterwards. He pulled his arms up over his face and rolled onto his side, trying to push it all away from him again. Shame was once more taking hold of his mind and sent his heart racing and his stomach twisting. 

He felt stupid for thinking he could just wing an investigation like this. For not taking the conversation with Rogers more seriously. Stupid for allowing all kinds of emotions, --his own and Venom's--, to push him into proving something, proving that he was still able to provide for them, if only by making himself come. Stupid that he'd watched himself through Venom's eyes, and stupid that, --for a second--, he had believed he could love himself like Venom loved him, make love to himself like they made love to him. 

Wasn't the truth that he was a dumpster fire of a man, --of a reporter--, and that he was getting worse every day despite those five years he'd missed? Maybe in another five years he'd be able to keep up his humor, but the rest of him would be looked down upon. Pitiful and pathetic. No one aside from his symbiote would touch him, would want to touch him, would desire him. And wasn't the truth that even Venom desired him simply because of chemistry, because of bodily functions they were dependent on and that Eddie wasn't educated enough to understand? 

Wasn't that the hard pill he refused to swallow?

"Eddie," Venom said, their voice pushing into his ears from the inside. 

Maybe they'd woken up with him, -- maybe because of him--, maybe sometime before. In his state of mind, Eddie had failed to pay attention to the state of the symbiote other than noting, --with some relief as usual--, that they were still there. 

It was difficult to hide powerful emotions from Venom, --good and bad--, but most times Eddie didn't want to talk about it. Today was no different. 

"I'm fine," he said. His wrists were muffling his words. "I'm just-," he started again, but first forced his body to roll back onto its back. "I just miss the unearthly shape of your ridiculous face," he lied and placed his hands onto his stomach. It was an attempt to ground himself, but the way his body had changed only sent him down the rabbit hole again.

"You're wrong," Venom said, but Eddie interrupted them instantly. 

"Don't tell me again that you don't have a face," he threatened. "You do, and I'd love to see it." He huffed in frustration. He was upset, and embarrassed about being upset, and annoyed about being embarrassed about being upset. "About last night," he began anew, fumbling with the edge of the sheet. "I'm sorry." 

"For what, Eddie?" they asked. 

"For not letting you sleep," he said. In truth, he was mostly sorry for believing his stupid acrobatics could be sexy to anyone including himself. "For panicking and telling you to stay with me even when we're alone. I know you get bored in there." With his fingers, Eddie tapped against his sternum, feeling disappointed when the skin remained entirely human. 

Venom didn't say anything. Most likely they were figuring out the non-existent relationship between his words that were all lies, his thoughts that were all even bigger lies, --made up by his own mind--, and his emotions which were all shame and regret. 

Just last night, he'd thought he'd recognized himself again, the smug and confident reporter, the arrogant asshole who had the guts to speak out about every injustice in San Francisco, not because he cared so much, -- he did care--, but because he believed his opinions mattered. Believed he could speak for those who didn't have the voice. And because he believed he could say it better than those who had it. 

Now his voice made him wish he hadn't passed his number to Rogers. Now he couldn't figure out if his opinions were worth shit, and the thought of his face having ever been on camera made him want to hide behind Venom's forever. 

"I better get dressed," he said. He knew he couldn't run from those feelings, but he could distract himself from them. And putting on clothes was the easiest way to get away from his body and all things related to it, related to sex. 

"You're wrong, Eddie," Venom told him again. 

"About getting dressed?" he asked, sitting up so he could put his feet on the floor. He brushed his toes over the carpet, wondering how McFarlane managed to keep it in such good condition. Staring down onto it, he could almost forget the number of people who had been here in his place. The number of people and Aaron. Aaron who couldn't touch him either. 

"About us being dependent on you," they said. Part of Eddie was glad they were paying attention to him, yet the other didn't want to have this conversation but wanted distraction instead. "We like you, Eddie," they reminded him. "That's why we want to be together. Forever." 

"I know, love. I just don't know if I like myself these days," he admitted. "I haven't done much to be proud of. I've let myself go." 

"Good," Venom just said. They didn't care when he shook his head. "You should let go more, Eddie." 

"Don't say that," Eddie warned. He could be so selfish and reckless when he didn't keep himself tied together so tightly. "I think I like you better than me," he said. "I think that's why I'm so terrified of losing you. Why I can barely stand not seeing you." 

"We're one, Eddie," Venom reminded him. "Just feel what we feel all the time. What you felt last night." 

Eddie grimaced at the mention of last night. "And what is that exactly?" he wondered. 

"That you're not that bad," they said. It wasn't necessarily the all-healing answer he had hoped for, nor was it the answer he'd expected, but it was one he could believe. Believe in. 

"How about we take a shower?" he asked. Though the urge to run from his body had quieted, the one for distraction hadn't. As he stood up, he looked down at himself, wishing he could see himself through Venom's eyes now. 

"You are doing that, Eddie," Venom said instantly. 

Refusing to be stubbornly self-harming, he allowed himself to feel more of what Venom felt and fewer of those self-punishing things he'd learned over the years. 

"Not that bad," Eddie echoed for the parts of his brain that were slow to let go of bullshit and fast to question every good thing happening to him. 

"Not at all," Venom agreed, nudging him forward by the butt from inside his muscles. 

* * *

The water in the shower took ages to heat up. Eddie killed some time by showing Venom all the spots on his neck and back that felt stiff this morning, then all the spots on his body where he'd wanted to but hadn't ever gotten the chance to get another tattoo for. He sketched his ideas out with his finger and laughed when Venom showed him what a terrible artist he was by bleeding into his skin. 

Despite it being nothing more than a bare-tiled bathroom of some roadside motel, standing under the stream of the hot water felt cleansing in more ways than one. Eddie closed his eyes and let it run over his face, down his chest and legs. Venom was moving towards the back of his head, the curved bones of his shoulder blades and the muscles of his calves, trying to hide from the rising heat. Eddie fumbled with the tap, tried to adjust the temperature. He hadn't paid attention to the steam rising around him, hadn't noticed the reddened irritation of his skin. 

"Sorry, love," he apologized again. 

Thoughts of his article had taken him away, --thoughts and doubts and the sudden self-made pressure of having some worthwhile document to work on. 

Rogers and Barnes were hiding, that much had become clear if it wasn't all too obvious before. And not just hiding. They were actively trying to scare people away from them and this town. But so far, something else had become fairly evident. That Rogers and Barnes were alone. Others were still missing. Barton and Romanoff. That Sam Wilson guy. Scarlet Witch. 

Even though he felt confident enough to take on Rogers and Barnes if it came down to a fight, Eddie knew he still needed to be careful about certain other people making an unexpected appearance. 

But most importantly, he needed the information he'd come here for in the first place. Understand why Rogers had become a criminal all those years ago. Find out whether he knew about Barton's killing spree and why, in five years, he'd never put an end to it. Why he and his closest allies had left the Avengers, the country and the entire world behind after Thanos. Why he felt that he was above the law and why he felt that Barnes, and Barton, and Romanoff, and the rest of his little group of friends were too. Why he couldn't be bothered to give a fuck for five years, only to come back and almost give his life to defeat Thanos. 

Why Barnes was making him go rogue multiple times in two different centuries when nothing else seemed to faze him. 

Channeling a fresh start, Eddie made his bed as neatly as he could, ignoring the way it tried to lure him back under the covers. 

He needed to write, to prepare the right questions and a strategy for convincing Rogers and Barnes to trust him. 

His laptop was still sitting at the bottom of his duffle bag, set aside for too long and waiting to be turned on and put to use. 

"Maybe some light will help," Eddie said to himself, carefully placing the computer on the foot of the mattress as he headed for the window. Slowly, he pushed the curtains aside to let a bit of sun in. 

Outside the motel, the world was tinted in monochromatic white with some gray shadows for highlights. The snow from last night was everywhere. Painfully bright despite layers upon layers of white clouds that were blocking the sun in the sky. Foot deep and thickly stacked upon the group. Surrounded by frozen nature and the sharp edges of icy cold air. 

Eddie shuddered involuntarily despite the sight being breathtakingly beautiful. Just the sight was putting his body's limits to the test though. However, he was only part human and with a glance to his camera, he made up his mind. 

The article could wait for a few hours longer. 

Instead, he got dressed as fast as he could, double-layering everything from his socks and boxers to his jacket. He put his old one on under the new parka although it wouldn't zip with the two sweaters beneath and he heard at least one seam rip somewhere around his shoulders as he moved his arms. The windproof hood of his new jacket was the only thing he had to protect his head from losing too much body heat and so Eddie pulled at its strings until it sat snug against his eyebrows and cheeks. 

"Do me a favor, love," he said as he secured the camera's strap along the back of his neck. "Don't let me get frostbite on the tip of my nose." 

"Of course not, Eddie," Venom assured him. Though they sounded small again, curled up in Eddie's torso for warmth, he trusted their word. 

"I promise these are going to look great," he said, tapping the lense of the camera. "They're going to be worth it." 

Eddie could tell that the symbiote wasn't convinced, but they didn't object further when Eddie turned the door knob and stepped into the cold breeze. He sank down into the snow even deeper than he'd expected, a sea of flakes parting beneath his feet. 

Out in the freezing weather, he only ever had a couple of seconds to take a good shot, his fingers burning up in pain instantly once he pulled them from his pockets where he warmed them eagerly every chance he got. 

McFarlane had been right about his car and how he was going nowhere without proper equipment around his tires. Not that he had anywhere else to be. 

He walked down the street of the motel, taking pictures of the endless white skies behind skinny gray branches, pointing out curious paw prints in the snow for Venom, admiring the diner shining like a beacon of home through the ice, with its steamy chimney and the colorful sign above the entrance. He didn't go inside though. 

This time, he was going to do what he was told, take the advice he'd dealt. This time, he wouldn't drag more people into his business, make his their business. This time he wouldn't give cause for more trouble. 

Or so he thought. 

Half an hour out in the cold, in the snow, in the wind, his concerns about frostbite weren't as far fetched anymore. Though Venom was keeping his circulation up, assured that blood was running through his toes, through the tip of his nose and ears and all his fingers, the exhaustion of constantly fighting the temperature was spreading through both of them, and Eddie knew it was time to head back. Maybe they could have walked another mile out, could have caught a glimpse of the coast even, and the sea on the horizon, but his camera wouldn't have made it out alive. 

He counted his steps to keep his mind distracted, to keep his mind from mistaking the grayscale surroundings with a different kind of void. He tried to get Venom to join him, but they weren't interested in that kind of useless interference with their thoughts. They were picking traces of playful happiness from his brain, were going through what was left of Eddie's midnight snack and ,--to Eddie's dismay--, were healing all the bruises they'd caused with their teeth. 

Staying inside his body, --their body--, seemed to have tempted the symbiote to do some maintenance, sort through his organs and making room for themself they technically didn't need. 

Eddie was lost in it all when the motel came into view and pulled his attention towards its parking lot instantly. 

Off to the side from his own car, a second vehicle was parked, one he didn't recognize, had never seen before. Not really. Not that he could remember. It was just another SUV, maybe not as common here as trucks and jeeps, but still common enough that the driver could just as well be a local as they could be from out of town. 

Somehow Barnes's words echoed in Eddie's ears, the question of whether someone could have followed him here. People Barnes had tried to warn him about, people he was scared of. Law enforcement or bounty hunters. Private investigators or secret service agents. Other criminals. People more dangerous than the Winter Soldier.   
  
Making use of Venom's eyesight, Eddie tried to figure out if anything else had changed around the motel. Tried figuring out whether it was safe to return. 

The curtains in one of the other rooms had been closed, but to Eddie's relief, not the ones in the room right next to his, but next to the office. 

Without consciously deciding to, Eddie fell into a jog, fear for the old McFarlane energizing him in the most terrible manner. He was moving on autopilot, being one with Venom, crossing the distance despite the snow barely giving way beneath his feet anymore and despite the cold air burning deep in his lungs. 

He was panting painfully by the time he got to the door, his eyes watering to keep from freezing over in the wind. From Venom's senses he knew then that McFarlane was in the room, knew that he was alive. Composing himself for just a second, Eddie knocked some snow off his shoes and pulled his hood down to sort his hair with shaking fingers. Then he stepped inside without knocking. 

McFarlane looked up from his desk, from his novel that was once again spread out in front of him and raised his eyebrows before he smiled. 

"Everything okay?" he asked, sounding just the same as the day before. Unharmed and content to just run his business. 

"I was just about to ask the same thing," Eddie admitted. He loosened his zipper at the collar a little and glanced at the board of keys behind the desk. There was no doubt now that the inn had another guest. 

"The snow, I know," McFarlane started, filling the blanks of what Eddie was holding back from him. "I told you, no? You better get used to it." He looked passed Eddie through the window behind him. "I don't think it's going to stop anytime soon. Not for long at least." 

Eddie nodded, trying to figure out a way to ask about the second room that was now occupied. 

"Will you be getting home okay?" Eddie asked. Although he was here for information, the concern was genuine. "Is that your car outside?" 

"No," McFarlane said. "Bess is going to get me in a little while. But the snowstorm has closed a couple of roads around town, so there's another guest. Maybe we can expect even more," he added, oblivious to Eddie's unease over the news. "Depends on how long this weather is going to last. Maybe more roads will close." 

McFarlane was pleased. 

Eddie was not. 

"I'm glad to hear that," he said despite it. "And I think I'm due the money for another week." He fumbled for his wallet although it was difficult to reach through all those layers of clothing. 

"Did you take more photos?" McFarlane asked, eyeing up Eddie's camera. 

"That's my job," Eddie just said, counting out some bills. He was going to run out of cash soon, if he didn't get a chance to stock up at an ATM. "It's what I came here for."

He placed the money on the desk, thinking that he should have just used his corporate credit card. But he didn't want to give away his exact location. He didn't want his editor sending another reporter after him. Someone who actually knew what Captain America had been up to after the snap. Who had first-hand knowledge of what the situation was like and had lived through it. Someone eager to steal the story from him. 

Plus, Eddie doubted that he could slip McFarlane a bit of extra money as easily if the old man would have to ring up his card.

Outside, Eddie pulled up his hood again, protecting his ears and forehead from the wind. 

Pretending to struggle with the slippery sidewalk beneath him, Eddie kept his pace deliberately slow. He was hoping to catch a glimpse through the window, through a crack in the curtains, or hoping to hear some spoken words through the closed door. But he had no such luck. 

Instead, it was difficult to make out even the presence of a single person in passing. Eddie had to put all his focus into it and ask Venom to do the same in order to be sure that he wouldn't be the only guest staying the night. 

He didn't want the old McFarlane to catch him spying on a customer he so badly needed and thus Eddie kept walking. It was the only thing he could do for now. He'd keep an eye out tonight and tomorrow. He'd find out if there was a threat so close or whether it really was just a person stuck in a storm. 

However, when he got to his own room and unlocked it, before he walked through the door, Eddie turned around and took a quick picture of the car across the parking lot. Those had proven themselves valuable before. 

Once inside, Eddie got rid of all those extra layers of shirts and socks with relief and rubbed his skin warm wherever he could reach. He didn't want to complain about the lack of symbiote patches on his skin, but he noticed them missing still. It had just been a couple of hours, but he missed the sight of Venom, missed being able to touch them. 

After another second of drifting aimlessly through his thoughts and his emotions, Eddie slowed the strokes of his hands, remembering that Venom could still feel every bit of contact he made with his own body. And he reminded himself that they liked it better when he moved over his own skin with care, when he was tender with himself. 

The feeling of loneliness passed the more he focused on his touch, although he still had to battle waves of embarrassment threatening to take him away. Somehow he'd rather have those bruises back. Be rough just to prove that he wasn't vulnerable. That he was as tough as a goddamn super soldier. It was the kind of strength it had taken to keep it together all year. 

His laptop was staring at him from the bed, but working on his article just didn't seem so appealing anymore. He was so tired of reading his words back and forth, the questions to which he had no answers. 

"How about some TV?" Eddie suggested instead. He turned it on without waiting for Venom's reply. 

Despite the distraction, he grabbed his laptop and got comfortable on the bed. Even though half of the information in his article was still missing, he could work on setting the mood. He brought his camera along to use the minutes of inevitable writer's block to save the pictures he'd taken. Though he didn't feel ready for it yet, at some point he knew he was going to send Annie an email, let her know that he was alive and well, better than when she'd last seen him. And he liked the idea of including a picture or too, knowing she would like that too. 

He had been working for a solid forty minutes when Venom's voice startled him.

"Eddie," they said, their voice overshadowing his own string of thoughts. 

Somehow, the more in tune they were with each other, the more unnecessary verbal communication seemed to become. To the point that Eddie needed to be reminded that they weren't in constant conversation anyway. Not really. Not that kind of communication. 

"Yes, love?" Eddie asked, focusing back on the screen. He quickly finished the sentence he'd just been working on before his attention was being pulled to the voice inside his head again. 

"This is the wrong channel," they informed him. 

For the first time since he'd sat himself down against the headboard, Eddie looked up. On screen were a couple of guys participating in what looked like some form of semi-formal dart competition. 

Eddie was about to tell Venom to just change it when he realized he had somewhat forbidden them from coming out even when things looked reasonably safe. 

"Sorry," he said, and reached for the remote. He zapped through the channels until he found the one Venom liked, the characters on screen looking somewhat familiar to him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he wondered and stretched out his legs to follow the show for a moment. 

"You were working," they reminded him. 

"It's not that important, love," Eddie said. His work had been taking up so much space lately, and had been his only priority for so long that he didn't blame Venom for thinking nothing had changed. "I'd rather watch this with you." 

He added two more notes and a reminder to follow up and fact check a couple of details before he saved the document and closed his laptop. As he set it down next to the bed, the spot on his chin where he'd split the skin earlier began to itch subtly and Eddie pushed the laptop halfway under the nightstand in case he would somehow fall off the side of the bed again. 

With Venom inside his body, instead of his arms, Eddie pulled one of the pillows across his chest only to discard it a second later. He wanted them to feel his touch. So instead of hugging that pillow, he slid both his hands underneath the hem of his shirt, placing his palms flat on his stomach where Venom loved him a little on the chubby side. 

He wasn't exactly surprised when he felt Venom moving into the touch, but he was surprised to find them pool in his fingers instead of his belly. 

But then they always preferred getting comfortable on it instead of in it. 

Though the weight of his hands hadn't changed, Eddie relaxed, knowing that Venom was where they were supposed to be. 

Once more, he let himself be pulled into the show by the symbiote's enthusiastic interest, cursing at plot twists and cliffhangers himself for three more episodes. 

* * *

"That's-," Eddie started, grimacing at the screen. "No," he added, shaking his head. 

"The door, Eddie," Venom said, not making any sense. 

"What?" he asked, but then there was a knock already. 

"Fuck," Eddie breathed, scrambling towards the foot of the bed. A thousand possibilities ran through his head. _McFarlane with more sheets. McFarlane angry about those sheets he'd forgotten yet again, which were probably stuck frozen solid against the inner drum and had somehow broken the washer. The mysterious guest making a noise complaint. Another reporter, here to take over his story. Some professional hitman. Captain America coming to rescue him._

As the afternoon had passed them by, he'd lost track of time, but even worse, he'd lost track of the sunset. The lit up window to their room had become an open invitation to anyone walking through the dark. By now, Eddie could see only his own reflection in the glass. That one, he could see surprisingly clear though, thanks to Venom. 

There was no time to grab a weapon, not that he needed to, --he was his own weapon--, but Eddie was still ready to kill a man when he opened the door. 

"Remember me," Barnes just said unceremoniously. It wasn't a question. On the contrary. Somehow, he spat those words out like an accusation. 

Either not giving a fuck or being purposefully intimidating as he intruded, Barnes didn't wait to be let in. He didn't even wait for Eddie to move aside. Instead, he stepped right into the room, right into Eddie's space and walked him chest to chest a couple of feet back. A cloud of cold accompanied his body, swirling through the air around them. Barnes closed the door behind them without looking, his eyes locked onto Eddie's. 

"Who were you talking to?" he asked, his mouth too close to not be threatening. 

"The TV," Eddie just said. He thanked the heavens that he wasn't still working on the article, that his laptop and camera were out of sight, that he and Venom had stuck to their new rule of one body despite hating it. 

Barnes still eyed him with more suspicion. 

"They had these two fall in love over the course of, like, five seasons only to break them up three episodes after they'd gotten together," Eddie argued, pointing to the screen. Venom fed his mouth with words and images of the episodes they'd watched. "I guess I should have seen it coming," he continued, tapping into Venom's emotions too. "But it's still a letdown. Especially, because one of them kept turning down job after job, decent partners and some pretty compelling love interests for this other person. Now look what they have, both of them. Nothing. Not even each other." 

Barnes nodded although Eddie doubted he cared. They were still chest to chest. Barnes's jacket was moist now from melted snow flakes. It looked way too thin for the kind of temperatures that were raging outside, but too thick for this small room and how warm Eddie liked to keep it. 

It seemed to not be a problem for Barnes though. He hadn't looked cold as he'd stepped in and he didn't look any different now. The Winter Soldier was on a mission and circumstances didn't seem able to keep him from it. Barnes's eyes wandered over Eddie's face, then down each side of Eddie's neck before he spoke. 

"Where is it?" he asked. 

"Where is what?" Eddie asked back. His mind went to his laptop again and he feared that Barnes could somehow read his thoughts. 

"The implant," Barnes clarified. "I want you to show it to me." 

"No," Eddie said out of reflex. His tone aggravated the absurdity of the situation, making him feel the need to backtrack again in order to appease. "You can't see it. I already told Steve that it's inside my body." He thought the mention of Rogers would coax any sort of reaction out of Barnes's face, but it didn't. 

"Then how do you know it's there?" Barnes asked. Eddie couldn't figure out his standing, couldn't figure out whether Barnes believed him or not. 

"I can feel it," he just said. "I know it's there."

"Then show me where," Barnes demanded again. 

As much as Eddie had preferred to show him a random spot on his shoulders or back, he didn't want to run the risk of choosing a spot he might not be able to reach well enough himself. And more importantly, he wanted to keep track of Barnes's expression rather than turn around and away from him. So instead, he lifted his shirt up, swallowed the feeling of being exposed and placed his fingers on the ribs beneath his heart, where Venom was meeting his touch from the inside, thickening between the bones in shapes that creeped Eddie out despite knowing about the symbiote. 

"Here," he said to Barnes and lowered his hand. He kept his shirt up with the other one, pressed it against his collar bone. 

To Eddie's surprise, --shock rather--, Barnes lifted not his more human hand, but the metal one. When he noticed Eddie flinch, he stopped halfway and held it still. 

"It's not cold," he said, although with the temperatures outside that was hard to believe. Barnes's tone carried a hint of confusion, as if it had been years since anyone had called attention to the prosthetic arm specifically. 

"You're not going to just rip it out, are you?" Eddie asked while he felt Venom snake themselves around his ribs as a precaution. 

"No," Barnes said so flatly that some doubt remained. 

Eddie glanced down to Barnes's fingers and lingered there with undeniable fascination. He had no idea what the metal hand was capable of for Barnes to choose it instead of the one made up of flesh and bones and sensitive tactile skin. Except kill and cause pain. Eddie didn't bother worrying about any technological advantages. Even if Barnes had some futuristic ultrasound or x-ray touch, thanks to Venom it would be as inconclusive as the next thing. And if his arm was capable of magnetic resonance imaging, then the pain it would cause to symbiote and host alike wouldn't disprove Eddie's lie. 

The one thing that stung was the thought that Barnes had deliberately raised his metal hand because he didn't want to actually touch Eddie's body.

As Barnes's fingers resumed their path towards him, Eddie kept his eyes on them. He forced himself to keep breathing, to not hold anything in. That quietly arrogant part of himself that had been hurt by that idea of being unworthy of Barnes's skin refused to show any weakness now, any fear in front of Barnes, any sign that he cared beyond the initial irritation. 

At the moment of contact, Eddie brought his gaze from Barnes's hand back up to his face, focussing on reading him instead of giving room to any more insecurities. 

Barnes was frowning lightly, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated on his touch. His eyes were glued to the spot Eddie had pointed out to him. On every other exhale, Barnes's breath ghosted over Eddie's chest as his nostrils flared with either puzzlement or frustration. 

He hadn't lied about his touch. Though his hand didn't run as warm as Eddie's body, it wasn't cold by any means. And as Barnes felt along his ribs, used his fingertips to size up the length of Venom beneath Eddie's skin, Eddie got the impression that it wasn't any less intricate to him, any less personal than the alternative of skin-on-skin interaction.

As the seconds ticked by, Barnes prodded with more confidence at the odd thing lodged between those two ribs. The new quality of his touch caused Eddie more and more discomfort. The bluntness with which Barnes pressed against his skin was one thing, but the way he felt up this small part of Eddie's symbiote, the way his fingertips groped at Venom and caressed them with every stroking touch, was a different thing entirely. It set Eddie's jealousy loose once more, worse than with Aaron. This time, it wasn't some unintentional by-proxy touching. Eddie could barely remain calm and allow it to continue although he had been the one orchestrating the entire situation. 

It didn't help that Venom fueled his jealousy with their own possessiveness. After all it was Barnes, the man from the pictures, --again--, who showed up out of nowhere, standing impossibly close to Eddie's naked chest, his fingers so close to Eddie's heart. 

They were doing it again, both of them edging each other on, and Eddie had to clench his fist at his side to put the tension somewhere. 

"So?" he prompted Barnes through his teeth. 

"What does it do?" Barnes asked. Either he hadn't listened to every word spoken between Eddie and Steve Rogers over the phone, or this was another stupid test to put pressure on Eddie's credibility. 

"I'm not sure," he told him. "Sometimes it makes me stronger, sometimes it makes me faster, sometimes it makes me smarter." 

"But not all the time?" Barnes asked. Finally, he glanced at Eddie for a second. By now their eye contact contained a strange familiarity. For some reason Eddie was relieved when Barnes brought his gaze back down to his ribcage. 

"Not all the time," Eddie confirmed. So far he hadn't lied about a single thing and if Barnes was keeping track of his pulse, his body temperature or nervous sweat, he wouldn't be able to draw any conclusions from it. 

"So how long has it been there?" Barnes went on. Before Eddie had a chance to answer, he placed his right hand on the side of Eddie's back. Carefully, Barnes walked his fingers over that same area there, trying to see how far the ' _implant_ ' reached. As far as Eddie could tell, Venom didn't bother to extend themself further. And he was grateful for it although he felt Venom's jealousy all the same, as clearly as if it were his own. 

"Came back with it from-," he started, paused without meaning to. "From the snap." 

For more than a year, all of his thoughts, one way or another, had been revolving around the snap. That split second event that had changed his life, that had changed him forever. And it didn't matter to him what any Avenger had to say about it, the snap had not been _undone_. It had not been _reversed_. It had happened. It was part of his history. Part of anyone's history. 

Barnes had fallen silent, his fingers were lying still against Eddie's skin. They were standing too close still. By now Barnes's jacket had dried up and Eddie could feel how Barnes's body began adding to the heat building between them. For the smallest moment, and almost inconceivably, Barnes leaned into it, into his own touch, the contact, into Eddie's space, his chest. Eddie's and Venom's. 

As if seeking permission, Barnes made eye contact again, his expression softer somehow, hesitant, even a hint of fear in it. But Eddie wasn't going to push him away. 

He knew nothing about Barnes except all of those horrible tales, except the crimes that guy was accused of, the atrocities he was allegedly responsible for. But right then he knew one more thing about him, knew it without having to learn it. That Barnes and him shared the horror of the snap, the horror of being returned, of being misplaced. Forever five years late. 

They stayed in that bubble of intimacy all three seconds long until it bursted and Barnes moved off him at once, taking not one but two steps back. 

"You can-," Barnes started, gesturing towards Eddie's shirt that he was still holding up by the seam. 

As Eddie let it go and pulled the hem down over the waistband of his jeans, he was already handed his parka by metal fingers. 

"Put this on," Barnes told him.

Eddie took the jacket and did as he was told. Then Barnes kicked his shoes into his direction as well. Judging by the way he pushed Eddie towards the door even before he had the chance to fumble with the zipper, it became clear that all of Barnes's patience had run out. And considering the force with which Barnes's technically human hand launched him forward, Eddie couldn't shake the feeling that Barnes was angry with him as well. For reasons he didn't understand. And considering how little Venom helped to keep him on his feet, Eddie guessed that Venom was too. 

With nowhere to go, Eddie opened the door to his room. The cold air outside sucked whatever warmth had been left inside right out of every empty space. 

For a moment Eddie considered bringing up his new neighbors, but he didn't want to bring attention to some unlucky stranger stuck in a snowstorm. No one needed Barnes lashing out for no reason. Besides, somehow Eddie got the feeling that Barnes wasn't above a 'shoot the messenger' type of solution to his problems, and so he figured it'd be best to sit back for a bit and wait, maybe let Bess take that bullet. He'd still investigate on his own, alert Barnes when it became absolutely necessary. 

"What now?" Eddie asked instead. He looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with Barnes. Somehow the intimacy from before was still there. This time it was Eddie who couldn't stand it, who had to look away. Leaving just Barnes's voice to answer him. 

"Now we walk." 


	5. Chapter 5

Eddie tried a deep breath but felt his body revolting. The air was wet with snow again and although the darkness brushed over the icy parking lot almost warmly, the temperatures had dropped yet again. 

This time he was wearing only that one pair of socks, that one layer of everything, and his skin tightened all over his back and down his sides instantly. He was going to lose body heat too fast. 

Barnes didn't care. He pushed Eddie forward again, out into the weather and pulled the door shut behind them. 

"Hey," Eddie called, looking back at him in annoyance. "My keys are still inside." 

Barnes held his gaze unimpressed. "I'm sure you'll figure something out." 

He didn't break eye contact. Eddie's exasperation left him entirely unfazed. There was nothing but boredom on his face. Eddie pinched his nose for a second when the empty stare between them became too much to bear. Barnes huffed and his boots kicked through the snow. Without another word he began marching through the night. 

Eddie watched him for a beat, but he knew that if he didn't catch up, if he didn't manage to keep up, Barnes wouldn't wait. He wouldn't even look back once. Whatever problem Eddie had asked Steve's help for, it didn't concern him. Somehow Eddie got the impression that Barnes wished he hadn't come down here. That he wished he hadn't put his fingers on Eddie's lie, unable to figure it out. He must have either done Rogers a favor by returning to the motel, or he'd done it simply to keep Rogers safe for as long as possible. To keep Rogers out of danger for as long as he could. 

Of course, Eddie hadn't expected an accused assassin to care about his well-being. He hadn't expected Barnes to feel protective over him. But he hadn't expected that lack of compassion to bother him as much as it did now either. 

"Eddie," Venom said, taking hold of his thoughts. 

"Yeah?" he asked quietly and focused back on himself. The abandoned figure of his own body on the sidewalk was surely beginning to look tragically lonesome. 

"Start walking," they told him, already pushing his legs forward. 

"Right," Eddie said, snapping out of it. Now wasn't a good moment to overthink things. It was time to get moving. He had no choice but to follow Barnes if he wanted his article to ever see the light of day. 

And so walking he did. 

Down the street and all the way through town. Up that corner where Eddie had lost sight of the truck his first night here. Then further along that gravel road, the private property sign covered in snow and unreadable. The further up they went, the more snow Eddie believed to see. His toes were numb and if it hadn't been for Venom, he would have begun worrying about losing some of them by now. But the symbiote was providing all the extra layers Eddie needed. They complained about the weather though, as much as Eddie did. Both of their thoughts turned into long-winded arguments about their combined suffering. 

Barnes refused to speak. He marched on in a state of dissociation Eddie could neither create nor follow him into. He remained stoically silent beside Eddie. His breaths were deep and sharp whereas Eddie's had grown shallow. His lungs were refusing to inhale all that ice floating around them. If Barnes had broken into sweat, his super soldier body didn't show. 

Meanwhile, Venom had to alternately intervene to either keep Eddie's heart from beating itself into an attack or from skipping too many beats. It wasn't just the physical strain, the stress and the tension that were pushing him towards his limits, it was excitement too. A sense of high that Eddie hadn't felt since the snap and he wondered how much of all this lay open to Barnes, to his eyes and ears or all of his other senses. 

They approached the house from the opposite side Eddie and Venom had on their nightly activities. From this angle the property didn't seem to warrant the price it was listed for on those old, pre-snap records Eddie had dug up. But then, the only houses worth something in these remote places were the ones closest to the water, and beach plum bank was as close as they got. 

Out here, the moon's glimmer was visible behind the clouds and Eddie could make out the shapes of those beach plum trees sitting in some distance behind the house. Unaware of the value of the land they were rooted in. Instead, they were either sleeping beneath their wintery blanket or had already died from the cold. Eddie hadn't been a wildlife photographer for long enough to tell the difference. 

"What is this place?" Eddie asked. It was an attempt to find out whether he'd given his investigation away from its first second or whether it had taken a couple of days. 

"Your new motel," Barnes grunted. 

Eddie's steps faltered. The answer seemed to displease Barnes to no end but he wasn't alone in that sentiment. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked. He had been speaking quite loudly and now as he tried to catch up with Barnes's strides, he regretted having wasted his breath like that. 

"You want our help?" Barnes asked, his tone aggravated as he stopped in his tracks. The question was rhetorical. 

Coming to a halt next to him, Eddie stared at Barnes. He was panting again and the foggy condensation of every exhale began to annoy him. He shrugged because he didn't want to pull his hands free into the cold just to emphasize the obvious. 

"Then stop being so shocked when that's what we're trying to do," Barnes said, averting his eyes again. He was about to resume his walk when Eddie stopped him with more words. 

"Oh, so that's what you're doing?" he asked, his voice full of sarcasm. "I'm sorry, but this feels more like you're walking me to my death." 

To Eddie's surprise, that last bit seemed to have an impact on Barnes. He looked confused for a second. The kind of confusion that almost made him look vulnerable. Then his face hardened again as if he was disappointed about allowing Eddie to get to him like that. 

"Just keep moving," he told Eddie then. "Towards the house."

"Why should I trust you?" Eddie wondered. Although the cold was seeping into his feet from the frozen earth beneath his shoes, he refused to move. 

"Why should we trust you?" Barnes asked back. He turned once more to make eye contact with Eddie but, given his expression, it pained him to do so. 

Eddie waited patiently until they were face to face again before he spoke. 

"No," he said. "Why should I trust _you_?" He took half a step towards Barnes, searching for the connection from before. The one he now refused to believe to have come from his imagination. "Who says you won't kill me as soon as I step inside that house and bury me under those trees."

"I thought it won't end well for me if I tried that," Barnes said, quoting Eddie's words back to him. In the dim light of the moon, he met Eddie's gaze, his eyes full of defiance rather than ridicule. 

"It won't," Eddie agreed. Though the odd intimacy of recognition had returned to their argument, he still couldn't stand its presence for too long. Yet, he didn't want to look away. 

"Then what do you have to worry about?" Barnes asked, eyebrows raised as he dared Eddie to voice his fears. 

"Nothing, Eddie," Venom chimed in to assure him. It was good to know that, --snow or no snow--, they were still ready to attack. 

The smallest of smirks was hiding in the corner of Barnes's mouth. Small, but condescending nonetheless. It was clear that he didn't consider Eddie a threat. 

A mistake Eddie wouldn't protect him from. 

"Fine," he said and turned towards the house. As he pushed past Barnes, he let their shoulders collide to make a point in either fearlessness or stupidity. He could guess the kind of provocation a physical confrontation like that would pose. He could guess Barnes's stand on being approached in any bodily manner. 

But Eddie hadn't paid enough attention to their position. He passed Barnes on the right, --his right--, and ran his left shoulder into Barnes's metal one with full force. The pain sneered through his arm, all the way into his knuckles, and spread as far as the furthest edge of his collar bone. 

There in the cold, the ache was hot and thick and reviving. And although his face had contorted at the impact, Eddie had to bite his lips a second later to keep from smiling with satisfaction. 

Barnes didn't give him the same courtesy. With a sharp and mocking scoff, he acknowledged Eddie's mishap before he followed him. 

"You're funny," he said. "I like that." 

Eddie had to swallow a cough, the surprise of that sentence had gotten his throat in a twist. Either that or Venom was trying to warm his freezing airways with strangling, jealous tendrils. 

"I wasn't trying to be funny," Eddie told his symbiote in the sanctuary of their shared mind. Arguing his case didn't make his reaction any less suspicious though. He hadn't tried to be funny, but he couldn't deny that amusing Barnes had left him feel slightly less miserable. The weather and the lies and the bleak prospect of not being able to see Venom, all of it was soothed for one short moment. 

Something about the house didn't look right, but Eddie couldn't quite put his finger on it. He'd never really seen the front of the cabin before, so his judgement didn't carry much weight. When they'd been here before the other night, the house had lay before them just as quiet and just as dark. The wind had made it difficult for them to get a better sense of the cabin or anyone inside. Even now, as he approached the front door with all their senses attuned, the only person Eddie could make out with the certainty of Venom's senses was Barnes behind him. 

Too much was going on around them. A thousand different scents and sounds. Cracking branches and crashing waves in the distance, the snow that had begun falling again. The exposure to threats looming all around them. The salt that Aaron had warned them about. Everywhere in the air. Its taste on Eddie's tongue, on Venom's tongue, drying his eyes and causing his nose to run endlessly. 

Eddie waited once he'd reached the steps to the small porch. It was just a couple of feet wide, served no other purpose than protecting the house from high precipitation and the subsequent sea of mud that would take hold of the beach plum bank. 

Barnes passed him, their shoulders brushing gently this time. Eddie couldn't tell whether it was on purpose. Then he produced a key from the inside of his jeans' pocket and, using his metal hand again, unlocked the door. 

Inside there didn't seem to be a single source of light. 

"Is Steve in there?" Eddie asked. He tilted his head so he could peek past Barnes into the house. 

"Just go inside," Barnes told him. "It's freezing out here." It was the first time that he had acknowledged the weather and that it affected him in some kind of way. Maybe he wasn't struggling as much as Eddie, but at least he didn't seem to actively enjoy those temperatures. 

Eddie wondered what his resilience revealed about the Winter Soldier's other strengths, but his questions never turned into worries. He would have been able to run up and down that same road they'd taken two, three, four more times, if he wasn't so hesitant to take on the combined form of his and Venom's symbiosis. 

Passing the threshold didn't do much in terms of battling the weather outside. Even as Eddie walked deeper into the house, the temperature barely changed. It simply went up from life-defyingly cold to shivering cold. With caution, Eddie pulled his hands free from his pockets. Not because he was eager to soak up some warmth, but he knew he might have to use them as weapons at some point. 

"Upstairs," Barnes directed him from behind. His boots were impossibly quiet on the wooden floor that creaked every time Eddie took another step. 

"How do you do that?" Eddie wondered, glancing back over his shoulder at him. He let his gaze wander from Barnes's face down to his shoes and then back to meet his eyes again, sizing him up like a snake double-checking its next meal. 

"Do what?" Barnes asked. Carefully, yet noticeably, he tilted his hips and stepped one foot out as if to make himself broader under Eddie's inspection. Maybe he wasn't underestimating them after all. 

"Walk so quietly," Eddie clarified, looking back down to Barnes's feet. Under Eddie's gaze, he shifted his weight again, and it dawned on Eddie that he wasn't trying to mess with the visual assessment but that he was uncomfortable being examined like that. 

"You get heard, you get shot," Barnes just said. He didn't care to elaborate further. Not that Eddie needed him to. The line of work Barnes had been involved in most of his life was explanation enough. 

Eddie didn't need to worry about being shot. Venom was the best ballistic vest out there. So much lighter and much more subtle. And multifunctional. 

"Yes, Eddie," Venom agreed quietly. They were pleased with where his thoughts were going. 

"I bet," Eddie said to Barnes. It was good to know that his super soldier skin wasn't bulletproof. Not that he needed bullets. Venom would use just their teeth to pull him apart. Those goddamn teeth he couldn't afford to be thinking about right now. Instead, he focused back on the stairs in front of him. 

"Why not, Eddie?" Venom asked innocently. "We'd only rip his head off to protect you." 

From their connection Eddie knew that protectiveness wasn't what gave Venom so much joy as they entertained the thought. 

"Later, love," he let them know. Given their audience, he concentrated extra hard to not say any of it out loud. 

"Do you have a problem with stairs?" Barnes asked. Somehow, through his tone, the question was laced with genuine concern. 

"No," Eddie said and quickly took the first step. "No problem at all." The way Barnes had moved in on him had Eddie afraid that he was just going to scoop him up into his arms and carry him upstairs. 

They mirrored their theatrics from their entrance, Eddie footsteps announcing his intrusion loudly while Barnes followed on feathery toes. 

Beneath the roof of the house, all of the warm air had gathered, and Eddie loosened the zipper under his chin, tucking down his jacket's collar as soon as he'd reached the top of the stairs. 

Oddly enough, it was relatively cozy up here. The top of the cabin seemed better isolated against the cold. Aside from the room straight ahead, Eddie caught a glimpse of four more doors, a number that seemed too high for such a small house. 

"Just keep going, for god's sake," Barnes told him with audible exasperation. 

Eddie moved his feet down the narrow hallway. At first he'd thought the room there at its end as dark as the rest of the house, but the closer he got the brighter a faint glow grew. 

The door to the room was set on a corner that kept most of the light out until Eddie was almost right in front of it. He blinked a couple of times to adjust to the new surroundings and be prepared for anything. 

The source of both light and warmth was a fireplace that Eddie noted with dismay. He could feel Venom recoil the longer he stared at the flames on the opposite side of the room. 

"You must be Eddie," someone said from behind him. Someone other than Barnes. 

The voice rang familiar from two different corners of Eddie's memories. For those three seconds it took Eddie to leave the fire be and turn around, his brain went back and forth, trying to make sense of it. Of Rogers's phone call and the old man's voice in the truck, offering a ride. It was still trying to make sense of it as the old guy's face came into view. They were only a couple of feet apart from each other, shadows and flickers from the fireplace dancing over the old guy's features. 

But Eddie's brain had latched onto the idea and was only looking for evidence in tunnel vision now. The growing similarities with the face in front of him sent Eddie's heart rate on the rise. Steve Rogers might have been a hundred years old, but from what Eddie knew, --knew for certain--, was that he'd never looked a day older than thirty-five. Not after seventy years in the ice. Not after the battle of New York. Not beaten up to the bone by Tony Stark or by Thanos himself. 

"What the hell is going on?" Eddie forced out through the shock. He had wanted to take a step back from the man in front of him, but he was all mixed up with Venom's senses, focusing on the fire behind them, that he took a step forward instead. "What kind of game is this?" he asked. The silence of the room was filled only by the snapping sounds of burning wood. 

From up close he couldn't deny anymore that he'd been fooled. By Barnes, by Rogers, by his own set of eyes. All this time, Steve had been right there in front of him, at the motel, at the diner, in the pickup truck that one time at the side of the road. All this time, Eddie had been so close to his answers. And yet, here he was, burdened with a thousand new ones. 

"What happened to you?"

"Time," Rogers said, as if it was nothing. He smiled. And allowed Eddie to stare open mouthed. Allowed him to stand there, way too close and with his fingers twitching in need to explore this change. 

"You're-, you're old," Eddie stammered. He shook his head in disbelief. "How did that happen? Is this some kind of mask?"

"I've been old for a while longer," Rogers reminded him. He glanced at Barnes to his side, but Barnes's face remained as blank as ever. Watching him, Eddie realized only then that he had followed Rogers's gaze. That he, too, had been looking for reassurance there. But Barnes didn't seem eager to give either of them what they wanted from him. 

"Is this a joke?" Eddie asked. He still didn't understand. 

"It's not a joke," Barnes replied. 

Right, Eddie was still looking at him with his questions. And he had addressed him instead of Rogers. Even now, he couldn't stop wordlessly pleading for an explanation from him. 

"It's a long story," Rogers said eventually, forcing his voice between Eddie and Barnes. 

Eddie took the cue and brought his eyes back to the old man's face. Steve Rogers. Captain America. 

"A very long story," Rogers added. 

Eddie finally took hold of his own body and stepped back, giving Rogers more space. The old man made his way to one of the armchairs. His posture and the stiffened hips and knees reminded Eddie of someone else. 

"You play cards with Frankie McFarlane," Eddie stated. He couldn't stop himself from pointing out more of the obvious. 

"I do," Rogers said, sitting down by the fire. He was wearing a woolen jacket with big buttons at the front that he pulled tighter around his body. "Although I rarely win." 

Eddie turned and tried to figure out what to do with himself. He felt awkward standing there, but he didn't want to sit down without being asked to. Who knew what could happen should Barnes take offense in that. If possible, Eddie wanted to postpone all fights until after he'd heard Rogers's story. A story that, undoubtedly, was going to be at the heart of his article now. 

For the first time, Eddie took a look around the room, taking in more of that surreal location. Heavy curtains were hanging in front of the windows, some glistening thick fabric like velvet. Eddie was convinced now that they were the reason he hadn't seen any sign of light when he'd stood out there in the cold dressed in Venom's skin. The small sitting area by the fireplace was soaking up all the light. The frail skin on Rogers's face and hands looked even paler in the shimmery glow of the fire. Though the rest of the room was left in darkness, it didn't end there by the armchairs and a dusty looking sofa. A tall dresser was set against the wall behind them and next to it stood a bed for two. Eddie couldn't help but notice that both nightstands were in use, that both sides appeared to be slept in. 

Somehow the idea disturbed him. Reflexively, he glanced back at Barnes, who had been following Eddie's wandering attention and had his gaze on the bed too. However, a split second later he snapped his eyes up to Eddie's and something that reached Eddie in the shape of hot fury burned up behind them. 

He knew that Eddie knew, and he didn't like that. He knew that some part of Eddie disapproved, and he didn't like that. He knew that Rogers didn't care about what Eddie had learned, what he'd find out from this moment onward, about what lay bare here, and he didn't like that. 

He didn't like that Eddie was here now, funny or not. Which confirmed for Eddie that it was Rogers who had convinced him to allow this meeting. 

Eddie brought his eyes back onto Rogers. It was still hard to look at him. But Eddie was more embarrassed about his initial reaction to the idea of Barnes sleeping with Rogers even now. He wasn't ignorant about the somewhat ageist quality of it. 

Ever since Venom had prompted it, he had assumed there was a more intimate connection between Barnes and Captain America, but the sight of the old Steve Rogers had blown away all thoughts of it. 

Now they'd come back as a shock to him. In a shock he hadn't managed to hide from Barnes. 

"Why don't you sit, so we can talk," Rogers offered. He seemed oblivious to the wordless exchanged that had just happened. "You can take your jacket off too." 

The tension between Eddie and Barnes was broken by Rogers's invitation and Eddie seized the opportunity to get away from him and move towards the sofa. His fingers still felt numb as he tugged the zipper all the way down and shrugged out of his jacket. He put it down on the sofa cushion and sat atop of it. A bubble of warmth was forming around them and although Eddie enjoyed the sensation of regaining feeling in all his toes, he refrained from stretching out his legs further towards the fire, from holding out his hands closer to the flames. 

"You want my help, but as you can see, there's only so much I can do," Rogers said. He was watching Eddie closely now. 

"Why did you bring me here then?" Eddie asked. He didn't want to make the same mistake these two had and underestimate their abilities. Rogers was looking ridiculously harmless now, but Eddie had no reason to believe he was any less deadly than when he'd taken on Thanos by himself. 

"Why did you come here?" Rogers asked back. "We never met. Not at the gym, not anywhere else. There are other people out there willing to help. People easier to find than me." 

"A lot of people are hard to find these days," Eddie just said. Rogers should have been aware of that. "I'm terrified of this thing," he added. Involuntarily, his eyes wandered to Barnes again, fearing he would weigh in with an opinion on Eddie's fake implant. "I want to learn how to control it. Make use of it." 

"Other people can help you do that," Rogers argued again. Apparently his age hadn't just caught up with him physically, but had reached his fighting spirit too. 

"Other people won't understand," Eddie objected a little too loud. 

His outburst caused Barnes to step up directly behind the sofa, and his proximity, in return, caused Venom to pierce their teeth through Eddie's shoulder blades. The fear of discovery led Eddie to lean all the way back until his spine sank deep into the sofa cushion.

"They don't know what it's like," he started again, trying to distract from his reaction. "Waking up and everything has changed." He was desperate to get Steve hooked on his lies again while attempting to keep said desperation from being suspicious. "I've got nothing else anymore. And I know that if I can't learn to protect myself, someone else will either kill me or use me for their purpose." 

When Eddie saw Rogers look over his head at Barnes, he couldn't stop himself from throwing a glance up over his shoulder too. He couldn't have predicted the scope of the change, but he knew the snap must have left some scars on Barnes as well. Scars that Eddie had aimed at with his appeal too. Yet Barnes didn't seem particularly interested in the whole conversation. 

"You can stay for now," Rogers decided however. His features had changed when he focused back on Eddie. His expression had become more stern, but his eyes had filled with a sadness Eddie couldn't place. 

"I can stay at the inn," Eddie said, unsure whether he had prompted Rogers's change in mood. If so, he didn't want to be chained to the guilt of it all night. "All of my stuff is at the motel." 

"You can't," Barnes said from behind him. Eddie let his head roll back until he could see his face. Barnes was looking down at him now. Their position made Eddie swallow involuntarily. "Not until we know who else is staying there." 

The words took a couple of extra laps through the circuits of Eddie's brain until they were finally relayed correctly and were beginning to make sense. 

"What do you mean?" he asked although he knew exactly who Barnes meant. 

"Maybe those people you're afraid of are already here," Rogers answered for him. Eddie brought his head back up to face him. "Bucky will keep an eye out for them." 

"Bucky," Eddie echoed. The name was no secret, but it sounded too playful for this pair of super soldiers. 

"We'll get your things in the morning," Rogers assured him. 

But Eddie didn't want anyone else's hands on what belonged to him. He wanted neither Barnes nor some stranger near his computer, near his camera. 

"What if they get to my things tonight?" he argued, the panic in his voice was real again. 

"That's what we want to find out," Barnes said. He'd finally moved around the sofa so that Eddie could look at him without having to bare his naked throat. "Whether they'll try to break into your room." 

"Great," Eddie commented. This wasn't how he'd planned to spend the night. It was the opposite of great. "Will you stop them if they do?" 

Barnes just shrugged. 

"Shouldn't you go back there then?" Eddie added annoyed. "Keep an eye on the room?" 

"Relax," Rogers told him. "We've got someone on it." 

"Who?" Eddie asked. "Who is keeping tabs on my room?" he repeated, looking back and forth between Rogers and Barnes. "Bess?" he guessed. "How long has she been spying on me?" 

Of course Eddie wasn't in the position to judge other people for not respecting his privacy. After all, he'd been the one going through these guys' trash. Still, the thought of Venom being in danger, the thought of anyone but him seeing Venom out in the open filled him with nothing but rage. 

"No one has been spying on anyone," Rogers said diplomatically. "And no one is going to steal your things," he assured Eddie again. "Still, we have to be careful, that's all. How about you get some rest?" 

"You want me to just put my feet up until morning?" Eddie wondered. The idea wasn't appealing at all. "How about you tell me that long story from before?" he suggested instead. There were so many questions still swirling chaotically through his mind. Questions he couldn't wrap his head around. 

"Some other time," Rogers told him. "Bucky and I have things to discuss." 

"About me?" Eddie asked, although he could guess more than that. Barnes was still due to report back from that weirdly shaped thing between Eddie's ribs. 

"We'll talk in the morning," Rogers added. He gave Eddie another smile, but it was clear that he was dismissing him for the night. 

"Okay," Eddie said. It was useless to keep pushing and put unnecessary pressure on the fragile trust between them. Being this close to Rogers and Barnes was better than being thrown out the door even with the risk of his cover being blown in the morning. He would get out alive anyway, he would write his story no matter what Barnes made of his computer and his camera. Luckily, the only photos left on the memory card were the ones he'd taken outside this morning, and even the blurry pictures of Barnes in his paperback folder would only prove the one thing that was already out in the open. That Eddie had tried to find him. 

"Come on, get your jacket," Barnes instructed again. He waited until Eddie had gathered his parka from the sofa before he walked him out the room and down the hall. 

The further they got from the fireplace the colder it got, and yet Eddie felt his body relax more and more with every step. Some instincts were stronger than knowledge, were stronger than comfort even. 

It seemed that Barnes and Rogers didn't want to run the risk of being overheard because they let Eddie stay as far away from them as possible. Across from them on the opposite side of the house. Eddie didn't know whether to be thankful for it or not. 

The room was much smaller, no bigger than a medium sized closet and fit only a bed and the smallest bedside table Eddie had ever seen. The bed was made and on it were fresh sheets that Eddie believed to recognize from the motel. At the very least, realizing how close Barnes and Rogers apparently were with the McFarlanes quieted Eddie's worries for the old man's safety. 

Barnes left him alone for a short moment before he returned and threw a sleeping bag into Eddie's flailing arms. 

"What's that for?" Eddie asked, maneuvering the thing into his hands. It looked rather old and used, and he preferred to not think about who'd slept in there or what Barnes and Rogers had done to each other while zipped up and on the run. 

"Gets cold at night in here," Barnes informed him. 

"Fantastic," Eddie remarked. Given the circumstances, he reconsidered his rule about Venom staying inside his body. He'd rather sleep under a layer of symbiote than some ancient comforter and this secondhand sleeping bag. 

"Bathroom's next door," Barnes added. 

Then he left Eddie standing there alone in the dark, surely looking tragically lonesome yet again. 

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Eddie said to himself. He took another look at the bundle in his hands before he tossed it onto the foot of the bed. 

This was going to be worse than sleeping in his car. 


	6. Chapter 6

Of course, he couldn't fall asleep. The room felt dusty although it was clean, the sheets felt scratchy although they were soft, and the night felt impossibly silent although sharp winds were howling outside. 

Rogers and Barnes had had a muffled conversation for the best part of an hour, but the house had been quiet ever since. Eddie had no idea what time it was. It had been dark since the afternoon and his phone was back at the hotel. The room didn't have a clock. 

As he lay awake, --tucked in underneath the covers and the unzipped sleeping bag, with his jacket rolled up into half a donut around his head--, he tried to come up with the least insane theory about Steve's condition, how his age had finally managed to catch up with him. 

The easiest and likeliest explanation was that the serum wore off over time and that Rogers was simply past his prime. A more elaborate one included some mysterious side effects of his battle with Thanos. Either way, it was obvious now why Rogers had gone into hiding. He wasn't who he used to be. He was probably unable to hold the shield steady, let alone throw it precisely and then catch it again. 

However, Eddie's third theory was that this was all part of a ploy and that he was being used to put a new disguise to its test. In that case he had to admit that he had been fooled real good. 

After a couple of restless hours in bed, Eddie's bladder gave notice and he contemplated getting up just to see whether he could dig up something interesting in the bathroom. 

The cold air all around him acted as a compelling deterrent though and so he asked Venom to take care of it, the tip of his ears blushing in the dark. 

"You can get some rest, if you want," Eddie let them know, pulling the blanket all the way up to his chin. The wind outside had picked up once more and Eddie could feel the weight with which it pressed against the roof of the house, small drifts like loose strings cutting through the air of his room and ghosting over his nose. "I'll stay up and make sure we're safe." 

"We don't need sleep," Venom reminded him. 

"I know, I know," Eddie said quickly. Their conversation was a little louder than a thought but quieter than a whisper in the dark. Eddie's lips were moving without fully forming words. And Venom was speaking to him not from inside his head but from inside his ears. "I just thought that maybe you'd enjoy it," he offered. "Not think for a while. Have some nice dreams while you're at it." 

So what if he was projecting? 

"We like being awake together," Venom let him know. 

"Those two are creepier than I thought," Eddie remarked. He glanced towards the door, wondering whether he would notice Barnes sneaking up on his room and pressing his ear against the brittle wood. "And they make less sense in person." 

"We didn't like him touching our body," Venom said, putting into words what Eddie had felt so clearly in that moment. 

"I know," Eddie told them. His skin was still crawling with the thought of it. Venom was only his. 

"Yes, only yours," they agreed. Their words made Eddie's heart pump his blood a little stronger and he could feel the symbiote focusing on one body part only. His brain. 

"Are you hungry, love?" Eddie guessed. 

"A little, Eddie." They sounded almost embarrassed about it. Maybe he was projecting his own shame again. The fact that he was keeping the one thing he loved more than anything on this planet, the one thing keeping him sane, in a constant state of food insecurity. In a constant state of hunger. 

The thought of touching himself crossed his mind. He wasn't above jerking off in other people's homes. But his body was still fending off the cold and so he doubted there was much to lay a hand on. Less even that would react to it. 

"Come on," he said instead. "Meet me here." He snuck one hand beneath the blanket, under his shirt, --his skin contracting and his breath hitching when his fingers were colder than expected--, and placed it flat on the side of his chest. Just under his heart. 

He was eager now to mask the echo of Barnes's touch with his own. Venom was pushing against his palm from underneath his skin, then slipping from his ribcage into his hand, ebbing back and forth until they were occupying both parts equally. 

"I think we did well today, love," Eddie said softly. He didn't know where to start exactly. But he owed his symbiote some positivity. "I think we've come farther than expected. I think we're really good at undercover reporting." He let those thoughts linger in their shared mind for a second, before adding another one. "I think we make a great team." 

Although Venom seemed to listen eagerly, seemed to take more from his words than what an ego low on strokes needed, Eddie wasn't sure whether it was enough. He tried to picture Venom's face, --their scary eyes, lanterns in all his nights--, and how they used to take up all the space in his own apartment. How he drowned in them, his body reborn and made to live underwater. 

"This is unhealthy," Eddie muttered to himself. He took a deep breath, his nostrils wet and cold, and wiggled his toes to keep them warm. 

"Worshipping?" Venom wondered. They didn't know about blasphemy. Eddie did but he worshipped them still. Who they were together. Their sacred union. 

"Living in the past," Eddie clarified. He closed his eyes for a second, just feeling that he was alright, that he and his symbiote were doing okay. Though the bed was a little small, it fit his body, and although it wasn't as warm as he'd like to be, they were sheltered and safe enough. They were tasting love, not just in every memory, but in all the cells, all the molecules and all the particles that were connecting them. It was enough to fill their stomach twice, every need taken care of by themselves. 

* * *

Eddie couldn't recall falling asleep, but he must have, half of his face buried in the pillow beneath him and with his hand still under his shirt. 

When he woke up, the sun was peeking past the horizon, past the shore and past the sill of his window, and he could make out muffled voices but not the words spoken. This time Barnes and Rogers weren't having their conversation in the room across the hall, but downstairs where Eddie knew the outlines of the rooms only from those blueprints he found with the real estate listing online. 

The second he opened the door to his room, the house fell silent. It was unfortunate how the supernatural senses went both ways here. 

He took the stairs slowly, noticing that the temperature had evened out now that the wind outside had calmed. He was clutching his jacket with one hand and somehow wasn't freezing in just his shirt. With every step, he could feel that he was awaited downstairs, that no other word was going to slip past Barnes's or Rogers's lips until he was standing in front of them. 

It was probably a bit too much, the way he stepped into the wrong room first, pretending he couldn't just tell by how their breath disturbed the air where they were standing. But Eddie didn't care. The longer they underestimated him, the better. 

Barnes looked annoyed with him when he finally walked into the kitchen, but Rogers smiled his kind old fella smile at him. 

"Morning," Eddie said. He fumbled with his jacket, because he didn't know the rules of this house, of this game. He didn't know whether he was de facto a guest or a prisoner, whether his presence was welcomed or just tolerated. 

"Coffee?" Rogers asked, but he was already reaching for a mug to fill. 

Eddie nodded, although he wouldn't put Venom through more than the initial taste. There was enough agitation already and he didn't want to add fuel to the fire with more caffeine. 

Rogers set the cup down on a small table and gestured for Eddie to take the chair in front of it. Then he sat down on the opposite side. Barnes remained standing, leaning against the countertop. His back was turned towards the window, but Eddie guessed his attention was focused on what happened outside the house as much as on what happened right in front of him. 

Eddie pulled the mug towards his chest to wrap his fingers around it and soak up the warmth. "What now?" he asked bluntly, his eyes set on Rogers. 

"Now, Eddie," Rogers started. His face was still unsettlingly friendly and his voice was calm, his speech was slow. For a man on the run, he seemed to have all the patience in the world. Despite his age and in contrast to what McFarlane had said, killing time didn't seem to count for a crime to him. "Now, I'd like to hear the full story," he finished. "What happened, why you need my help and how you found us. Me," he corrected though it hardly mattered. 

Eddie took a small sip from the coffee. It was made from instant powder and had that same lifeless taste as the one back at the motel. Nevertheless, the placebo of just the smell woke whatever part of his brain was still half asleep and the heat loosened his tongue. He took a deep breath, head angled over the cup in his hands, and inhaled some more courage. 

"Everything started going wrong once the snap happened," he began truthfully. An urge to glance over at Barnes was nagging at his neck, but he ignored it. "Or rather, with you guys undoing the snap." He looked Rogers straight in the eye, waiting for a reaction. Waiting for a twitch somewhere, the flutter of an eyelid, the hint of a blush. But none came. Rogers had no regrets about what he and his friends had done. 

This time, Eddie didn't wait for the urge, but turned to Barnes openly. He'd lost five years too, he must know the pain and the consequences that had tagged along with those who returned. Eddie couldn't begin to comprehend the strength it would take to hide those from the people around. From people so close. 

Barnes met his gaze though he refused to otherwise interact. Refused to take part in the conversation. Eddie couldn't even blame him. He brought his body back around, facing Rogers and went on to spin a tale about powers he'd suddenly possessed but was incapable to control.

He drew all inspiration from his first days with Venom. The nausea and the hunger and the vomiting. The cold sweat and the black-outs. His body falling and surviving, his body climbing trees without effort. Then the sudden loss of all abilities. His body hurting and shaking everywhere, burns all over his body. He had to swallow when the memory threatened to overwhelm him. 

Inside his body, Venom was agitated as well, seeking comfort in Eddie's belly, squeezing organs aside uncomfortably. The symbiote's distress over their near death experience made Eddie feel light-headed and dizzy. 

Rogers reached out for Eddie across the table, put his aged hands over Eddie's that were still holding the cup of cooling coffee between them. The skin of his palm was soft. It was a fatherly touch and Eddie struggled to accept it. Worse, his brain pictured that same touch on Barnes's hands and Eddie couldn't stop himself from kinkshaming the relationship the two of them continued to have. As if he and his alien symbiote were any better. Even their age difference was bigger. 

"I didn't know who else to trust," Eddie went on. "Doctors, scientists, they can be so cruel." His own experience taught him that it was true. Where Dan was kind and compassionate, Drake had been selfish and ruthless. 

Rogers nodded as if he understood, but then pulled his hands back into his own lap. "Banner's a good scientist." 

The remark made Eddie laugh and although he tried to stifle it, it still came out as a mocking grunt. 

"The Hulk?" he asked Rogers. He leaned back in his chair, grateful for the distraction. "Seriously? Last I heard he lost half his arm to create this mess that I'm in now and hung his lab coat out on the rack for good." 

"Right," Rogers said as if he'd forgotten. As if it hadn't just been a little over a year since Thanos. As if he was reminded of something that happened decades ago. 

"I found you because Barnes is good looking and people remember him," Eddie said bluntly. What little weakness Rogers had unintentionally just revealed was worth poking into. "I could only guess that you were with him. You broke him out of prison after all." 

Rogers made that same expression from before, as if Eddie had rang merely a distant memory and details were hard to recall. Then he looked over at where Barnes was standing. Maybe he had forgotten what Barnes looked like too. 

Eddie took that moment to contemplate his options. He wasn't really looking forward to his article about fugitive Captain America turning into nothing more than an awareness piece on dementia. 

"Barnes," Rogers echoed then, forcing Eddie's focus back onto the conversation. "Why so formal," he added with another one of his friendly smiles. "You can call Buck here by his first name. And you can call me Steve." 

"James?" Eddie tried, because no way in hell would he call a murderous killer _Bu_ _cky_. 

"You call us _Love_ ," Venom reminded him, taking up all the space in his head rather than his stomach. 

"That I do, love," he replied while, outwardly, returning Steve's smile. "That I do." 

"Bucky," Barnes corrected from behind him. The gesture surprised Eddie and he guessed that, going forward, he would have no choice in the matter. 

"And I'm Eddie," he said somewhat awkwardly. "But that's what you call me already, so-." He left it there and Rogers didn't bother with another smile. 

Instead he cleared his throat and straightened his back as much as his aging body allowed. 

"I know you were aware that this was coming," Steve started again. He waited for Eddie to make eye contact, his expression worried. "I'm afraid I can't spare you." 

Eddie nodded once, pushed the mug of cold coffee away from his body before he stood. He gripped the hem of his shirt with one hand then pulled it up. Standing in front of Rogers now, in front of Barnes again, he was feeling self-conscious. It didn't matter that he hadn't been eating for over a day and he wouldn't look any different if he'd eaten a dozen pancakes just now. His body was that of a man at peace not that of a soldier ready to go to war. 

Steve got up easier than Eddie had expected, but his steps were slow as he closed the distance. 

Just as he'd done with Barnes, Eddie kept his eyes on Steve's face, tracking the slightest response. The first couple of seconds, Steve looked as tense as Eddie felt. He was much more hesitant than Barnes. His fingers were trembling ever so slightly, whether from nerves or stiffened joints was impossible to tell. 

At the first touch, it wasn't Eddie who flinched, but Steve, his face set in irritation. Eddie hadn't felt Venom do any particular acrobatics, but he still silently warned them to not mess with the old man for fun or out of boredom. 

"This is strange," Steve said. His commentary took Eddie by surprise. He had expected to be subjected to another wordless examination, but apparently Steve conducted his business differently from Bucky. "Does it hurt?" 

"No," Eddie told him honestly. "It doesn't hurt." 

"What makes you think it's an implant and not something that's more or less alive?" Steve asked then, pressing Venom further in between Eddie's ribs with his thumb. More or less alive. The phrase bothered Eddie. 

"It's not a tumor," he told Steve with some annoyance. "And it's not a parasite. It doesn't move," he lied, "it hasn't changed in shape or size, it's just there when before the snap it wasn't." 

Steve nodded, then leaned in closer. He traced the skin all around the spot where Venom was playing tricks on him. 

"But there are no scars," he stated, brushing over Eddie's chest as if he was dusting it off. "How did it get in there." 

"If I knew, I wouldn't have been so scared finding it there," Eddie said. "And maybe I would have already taken it out if I thought that was possible without killing myself in the process." 

"Bucky thinks it's somehow connected to your heart and lungs," Steve told him. He reached around Eddie's body like Barnes had done before him and placed his hand flat against Eddie's back. "Maybe some other organs too." 

"Really?" Eddie said. He didn't need to feign that this information intrigued him. Venom's efforts were rewarded with a rush of adrenaline. The confirmation that they had fooled Barnes's metal fingers filled Eddie with too much satisfaction. Granted, all of that immoral pride wasn't speaking for his character, but Venom was pleased with his change in mood. 

"There are-," Steve started, then hesitated. He dug his fingers a little deeper into the muscles of Eddie's back. "Irregularities," he said eventually. "In your heartbeat. In your breathing. They're not very prominent, but you can feel them if-," another pause, "under certain circumstances." 

"If your senses were artificially enhanced?" Eddie guessed. Steve nodded, but otherwise ignored the comment. 

"It's possible that they influence your body in the ways you've described," he went on instead. "It's possible those changes come in waves." 

"Waves?" Eddie repeated. "What does that mean? What exactly can you feel?" He needed to know whether whatever Steve and Bucky had picked up on was Venom messing with their perception or simply the symbiote's presence in his body. 

"Difficult to explain," Rogers just said. He brought his hand back around and placed it directly over Eddie's heart. 

Possessiveness was burning up inside Eddie's chest. This time he believed it was just his own but that didn't make it any less forceful. With Rogers's palm pressed over his nipple, his mind went to the upstairs bedroom again, to where Steve and Bucky had spent the night. Only then was Venom's jealousy stirred, and Eddie realized that Barnes and Rogers didn't warrant the same level of passion because they didn't pose the same level of threat. 

It was comforting to know that his symbiote was as ageist as him. Horrible though, the idea that Eddie had taught them such discrimination. 

"There's a certain rhythm," Steve went on. All of Eddie's internal struggles seemed to still be safely hidden from his super senses. "In the irregularities," he added. "It's almost mechanical though I can't say for sure." 

The answer calmed some of Eddie's anxieties. 

"So you agree that it's an implant?" he pressed nonetheless. He tried to keep his voice non-committal though. 

"I can't say," Steve said with what Eddie perceived as genuine honesty. "It seems likely, but I can't say for sure." 

"What does _Bucky_ think?" Eddie asked. He may have used his name too pointedly. "Shouldn't he know a bionic body part when he sees one?" Eddie turned his head to get a reply, but Barnes just shrugged. A slight frown of cluelessness was showing on his forehead. 

"I'm not a fucking mechanic," Barnes said. He hadn't been very cordial since their first meeting. Still, his sudden use of curses stunned Eddie. 

"Great," he said to cover his astonishment. The disappointment wasn't real. The ongoing confusion was likely to benefit him. 

"I'd suggest you get your things from the motel and stay here for a while," Steve offered. He stepped back from Eddie's body. Apparently, his assessment was over. "That would allow us to keep better track of whatever is happening to you." 

Eddie was torn. He knew this was a unique opportunity to gather all the information he needed, to catch either Rogers or Barnes off guard, catch them in letting one too many words slip from their well guarded mouths. 

But he knew that he would subject himself to that same risk. 

"What about the motel?" Eddie asked, fixing his shirt. Somehow he still felt half naked. "I'm the only guest. Mcfarlane needs the money." 

"You _were_ the only guest," Bucky corrected him. It was a reminder that Eddie could have done without. 

"How about you let me keep the room at least," Eddie suggested. "I'll get some stuff, I stay here, I only show my face there occasionally. Frankie McFarlane gets his money and I won't raise any more suspicions. I mean, who checks out during a blizzard? It doesn't make any sense." 

Steve and Bucky shared a look as they contemplated Eddie's arguments. The moment stretched unnecessarily long and some unease found grounds to grow on inside Eddie's chest. 

"What?" he asked, trying to hide his nervousness. "Is all of my stuff gone?" 

"Your _stuff_ is still there," Barnes told him. Eddie wasn't too happy about the tone he used on the word 'stuff'. 

"Good, that's-," Eddie began, then opted for the truth. "That's a fucking relief actually." 

There was still something left unsaid between Steve and Bucky, and Eddie didn't know if he even wanted to hear what it was. He couldn't picture Barnes being happy about having to house him for a while longer. 

"So," he started again, hoping to distract those two enough to drop whatever weird eye contact conversation they got going on. "Can I go get a change of clothes? Take a hot shower while I'm at it? No offense, but your guest bedroom doesn't offer that many amenities." 

* * *

Barnes and Rogers ended up deciding that he could go, but that he shouldn't head back into town alone. Somehow Eddie had hoped that it meant he would be given a ride in Aaron's truck, but instead Steve insisted that Bucky chaperone his walk. 

The sun was still out, highlighting the snow covered crystalline slope that led to beach plum bank. Pine needles were scattered all over the frozen ground from the wind at night, but their scent was up in the air, floating much gentler than the sting of the salt. 

Eddie buried his hands in his pockets, dreading the way down as soon as he'd stepped out of the house. As the wind and snow had moved further inland, a harsher cold had settled over Easbell and its coast. The snow cracked with each step, a thin layer of ice breaking above it under the weight of their bodies. Venom pulled away from his limbs for a moment, leaving behind a fatigue that Eddie blamed on his lack of sleep. He knew they would head back for his toes once his body was threatening to cut off circulation. 

When they were a couple more feet from the porch, Eddie turned to get a look at the house for the first time in daylight. The years since the snap and undoubtedly the distinct weather had aged the facade. The house that Eddie had seen in the picture had been in better condition, but the scenery now added to its charm. 

He let it go, focused instead on finding a comfortable pace when more things came to light under the morning sun. For the first time, Eddie noticed that Barnes's posture was a little off when he walked. He tipped his body further to the right, as if he had to outbalance the metal arm, yet, judging by his disrupted movements, that didn't seem to be the case. Unless, somehow the arm was lighter than it used to be and it was hard for Barnes to break the habit. 

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He refused to feel any kind of pity. Barnes was still a deadly threat, his arm still a lethal weapon. 

"So," Eddie said, ducking his head between his shoulders to fend of some unexpected gusts of cold air rushing through the trees. "Steve's really old now, huh?"

Barnes glared at him for a second and Eddie regretted his attempt at conversation. Then something changed as if Barnes, too, was suddenly ashamed to have taken offense in that simple statement. 

"That's what people do," he said, although Eddie hadn't been expecting him to bother with any sort of reply. "Grow old," Bucky added, clearly gritting his teeth like he hated his own words. 

Eddie nodded, wondering why Barnes hadn't aged in the same manner. Maybe the snap had spared him some formative years that were going to catch up with him soon enough. Maybe he was a different kind of super soldier. Eddie wasn't brave enough yet to ask those questions. He needed another coffee first, hell he needed some breakfast, before he was ready to risk his life like that. 

They made their way through the snow and soon enough Eddie felt Venom slithering down his legs, tickling the soles of his feet and the skin between his toes. He smiled, felt his heart warming just as much, and the hunger faded once more. Given the circumstances, he really didn't give himself enough credit. He really wasn't that bad of a host. And compared to all the others he'd seen, he was an excellent one. 

Once they had made their way down the hillside and turned from the gravel end of the road onto the street, the thick snow was slowly thinning the further they moved on the pavement. Unfortunately, the layer of ice above the snow remained, and instead seemed to thicken the longer they walked. As Eddie stepped on a particularly icy spot, his shoe slipped the second it touched the frozen surface, sending his feet speeding away from the rest of his body. His knees twisted awkwardly to all the wrong sides as his feet struggled for traction where there was none to find.

With how fast it all went, there was very little Venom could do to help, not from the confines of their shared body, nothing but pillowing his tailbone with a generous layer of symbiote. Eddie already saw his butt hitting the ground when something grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and stopped his fall with a violent pull. It was Barnes and, to Eddie's surprise, the fingers of his right hand. The human one. 

"Thanks," Eddie said, still halfway dangling from Bucky's fist around his collar. 

Very carefully he brought both of his feet back under his body and gradually added more weight to his stance. Bucky let go off him, his hand snapping to his side as if he couldn't trust that it wouldn't reach out again.

Eddie's legs were feeling a little wobbly still and a thin trail of pain ran up his thigh from his knee, reaching all the way into his hip bone. He rubbed the spot where the pain subsided and turned his back before he let his hand slide further down to adjust himself privately. 

"Why the pain, Eddie?" Venom wondered, demanding attention that Eddie would rather use on the path in front of him. "Why do you like it so much?" they asked again. They didn't need to see him to know what was going on.

"I told you, I don't know," he reminded them without speaking. There was nothing new he wanted to add to the subject. He fixed the hood of his jacket so his ears wouldn't get cold and pulled his pants up high so he could walk better. 

"How does Steve manage to survive getting into town?" Eddie asked. Granted, it was an easy way to escape his internal conversation with Venom and focus on his walk instead. 

"He drives," Bucky just said flatly.

"Why didn't we do the same?" Eddie wondered. His steps were still far from steady. He was watching out for more dangerous spots, taking note of Bucky's feet whenever his boots came into view. They didn't seem to teach him how to avoid another almost-accident though. 

"I don't need that other guest chasing the truck like you did," Bucky told him. So he was smart enough to not make the same mistake twice. Good for him. 

* * *

The snow and the ice didn't ease up along their path, not until they reached the motel where Bess was shoveling snow off the sidewalk. She seemed to be waiting for them and to deliberately only clear the walkway from the office to the newly occupied room and down towards the parking lot. Meanwhile, the wind had pushed the snow two feet high up against the door of Eddie's room. 

She dug out a key from one of her pockets as she saw them approaching, holding it out for Eddie to take. 

"Heard you got locked out," she said and flashed him a fake smile. 

"Thanks," Eddie said although it wasn't what he'd wanted to say. He took the key from her, his eyes following the powdery untouched path to his room. "For nothing," he muttered as he stared at the snow in front of him. At least this way, he wouldn't slip again and embarrass himself in front of Bess. 

"Hey," she called from two steps behind him. "Now you know no one walked up to your room." 

"Yeah, right," Eddie said. He knew at least one person who was eager and capable of avoiding leaving prints even in the snow. 

He hadn't expected those two to follow him up to his room, but as they trailed his steps side by side, he couldn't even explain anymore why he'd been that naive to begin with. 

His fingers were freezing when he kicked some of the snow aside and unlocked the door. The sheer physical relief when he pushed into the room brought tears to his eyes. He was grateful when Bess and Bucky didn't follow. 

Though the room appeared untouched and even Venom's senses didn't suggest otherwise, Eddie still acted under the pretense that Barnes had turned every item in the room. It was difficult to believe that he wouldn't take the opportunity. If only to eliminate the possibility that Eddie was a bigger threat than he thought. 

The first thing Eddie did was take off his jacket and put on another shirt and a sweater on top of it. Then he opened his duffle bag and filled it with half of his clothes, his phone and his charger. The battery had already died again. He wrapped his camera tightly into his hoodie before packing it too. Although he wasn't going to carry it in there, he placed his laptop on top of his clothes before he headed for the bathroom with his bag over his shoulder and his parka in his hand. 

"Sorry, love," he said, pulling the laptop free again. "I know we have rules, but I need your help with this." 

He didn't trust the hard drive to survive the temperatures outside, so he knew he had to carry it closer to his body. Carefully, he balanced the laptop around his waist until it was perfectly positioned over the curve of his butt, and then began to slide it upwards underneath the layers of shirts and sweater. Just two seconds later he could feel Venom pulling on the computer from somewhere around his shoulders. They webbed themselves around it until the laptop was neatly fastened against Eddie's back. Then Eddie threw his jacket back on and packed the emergency overnight set he had bought when he'd first checked in. When he exited the bathroom, Bess and Bucky were talking outside and Eddie stopped in his tracks to listen. 

"I don't know," Bess said. She must have been standing between door and window, because Eddie couldn't see her but hear every word clearly with the door ajar. 

Eddie held his breath. Chances were high that Barnes was already aware of his proximity, but that didn't mean he would stop Bess mid-sentence. "I don't think anyone gets used to it really," she continued. "It gets easier, but your entire relationship changes." 

Eddie frowned, unable to catch on as quickly as he would have liked. 

"I've done it before though," Barnes said and Eddie forced every last muscle of his body still. Even his heart slowed and its beat grew distant. Without a doubt due to some symbiote tempering. Nevertheless, it was exactly what he wanted. Disappear from Barnes's radar for just a couple minutes longer. "I've taken care of him most of my life. One way or another," he added. "As much as he let anyone look after him." 

At that Bess laughed softly, but Eddie couldn't shake the hollow tone of Bucky's voice. 

"Then you know what it's like," she told him. "Unfortunately, old age doesn't seem to do much when it comes to stubbornness." 

"I was hoping retirement would," Bucky said. It was becoming clearer now to Eddie what Barnes and Bess had in common. What made them sensible allies. 

"Don't get your hopes up," Bess added. The conversation was drying up and Eddie chose to check out before being discovered. If Bucky was even beginning to trust him, he couldn't risk destroying such fragile progress. 

And so he fumbled with the bathroom door again, took a step aside and shouldered his duffle. He let the strap run across his chest so that he could use the bag to hide the laptop on his back. 

He rolled his shoulders once and grabbed his own key from the desk before he opened the door to face the two of them waiting outside. 

"I think I've got what I needed," he said, avoiding Bucky's eyes. Instead he held out the emergency key to return it into Bess's hands. 

"Make sure you don't forget to pay once this week is over," she reminded him as she took it back. "Or I'll throw out everything you left behind." 

Bucky huffed in amusement, but Eddie still couldn't look at him. 

"Don't worry," he just said, holding back his anger. "I won't." 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just file this one under 'Everyone has issues', okay? Issues we will discuss further of course. And yes, also resolve.

People were more than one thing, more than the worst thing they'd ever done. This wasn't just another piece of wisdom. It was Eddie's life. In his time as a reporter, he had gotten to know murderers, had written about drug cartel members and talked to corrupt politicians. And he himself had bent the law when a good story was at stake, had gotten tangled up in things bigger than him. And he'd hurt people. 

It was just another fact. Barnes was more than a killer and more than a super soldier. More than a war machine. And yet it bothered Eddie to have that fact openly acknowledged. By Steve, by Bess, by Barnes himself. 

On their way back to the house, Eddie threw glances at Bucky's back, the side of his face, his metal hand, trying to find out what it was that gave him a hard time. It was fascinating to watch Barnes's body, so solid and entirely under control. The difference was striking to Eddie who had gotten used to the fluidity of his own form. Nothing was ever still within him, nothing ever stood fast. 

Bucky ignored him for most of the walk. Though, every now and then, he stopped Eddie from stepping onto more ice or stumbling over hardened snow banks. It was by butting his shoulder against Eddie's, by grabbing his elbow or by putting his foot in Eddie's path that he wordlessly guided him along the road. 

His silence was irritating but so were all those moments of contact. 

More than once Eddie attempted to come up with something to say, start a conversation for the sake of his work, but had gotten lost in that strange orchestra of their march instead. His breaths and Barnes's, nothing about them in sync. Eddie's ever changing pace, the way he regularly fell back and then had to push forward to catch up. The way Barnes continued to set a rhythm Eddie failed over and over to fall in line with. The sound of Eddie's bag against his jacket, of his jeans folding along his crotch and thighs with each step and of its inseams catching at the cuffs. 

From then on, the silence between them became their resting state. 

And Steve became the voice between them.

The impasse of unspoken thoughts lasted for three days straight. Every morning Steve made coffee, every morning Eddie took one or two sips to be polite. Every morning Bucky watched with a mixture of disgust and pity as Eddie answered Steve's questions about how he'd slept, how he was feeling, what changes he'd noticed. To which Eddie replied ' _fine_ ', ' _normal_ ' and ' _none_ ' each time. 

Every day, Eddie asked Steve what life in those five years after the snap was like. Each time Steve took a little longer to reply. Then he told Eddie other people's stories. Their struggles and who they had lost, who they had missed so dearly. People Eddie had never heard of. 

Three days in which Steve monitored him all day and Eddie watched his every move in return. Three days in which Eddie was asked to perform ridiculous tasks that he purposefully underperformed in. Three days in which Eddie hadn't used the shower once, the vulnerability of it creeping him out. It hadn't occurred to him that Barnes and Rogers had felt the same. Not until the morning of the fourth day. 

Eddie heard the footsteps and he heard the running tap. He heard the occasional splashes of water too, but he was too busy keeping track of Venom's movements. Ever since daylight had found its way into Eddie's dreams, and his consciousness was with the world although he hadn't opened his eyes yet, the symbiote had teased him by making their presence known more than usually.   
  
They were in the side of his neck, just beneath his ear, where the skin was extra sensitive when he'd just woken up. Eddie wasn't hard as often as he used to be in the mornings, but he was hard now, his cock filled not simply with his own blood but with traces of Venom too. 

Though his voice was still thick with sleep, he hummed and curled his toes against the sheets. 

There had been more snow in the past days and awkwardness had stuck to every single room in the house. Not once had Eddie gotten the chance to talk to Steve alone, Barnes kept lingering like a shadow. Two more times had Rogers put his fingers on what he believed to be the implant, two more times had he called it _strange_ and _a mystery_. 

Venom hadn't cared much about the touch, they only protested whenever Bucky stood too close or their fingers brushed when he handed Eddie a plate of takeout. The food wasn't nearly enough to feed the kind of hunger that was beginning to make itself known again. Though Steve had driven down to the diner two nights in a row, he hadn't brought back anything sweet the first time, and had bought just a blueberry muffin the next instead of the chocolatey one Eddie had hesitantly asked for. 

The lack of television had Venom chronically bored once more. Rogers went to bed at nine every night and Barnes disappeared with him although Eddie guessed he was still keeping track of where Eddie was. The temptation to go rummaging through cupboards and drawers at night was ever present, but Eddie held back. He was all wrapped up in playing the perfect guest so he could gain more of their trust before breaking it. 

The excitement of coming face to face with Rogers and Barnes had worn off, and had been swapped for a constant state of forced pause, of painful inactivity, of waiting each other out. 

Venom had quietly suffered with him, the silence between them not unlike the silence that ruled beach plum bank. With nothing in reach to improve his mood, nothing filled that ever growing hollow pit of hunger, an echo of their constant state on the road. 

This morning though, it seemed the symbiote was fed up with all that misery and determined to be the change they wanted to see in the world. 

"I miss you," Eddie whispered. Couldn't help himself. He pulled the sheets up over his head, shutting out what didn't belong to them. It was only then that he opened his eyes. 

"We're one, Eddie," Venom reminded him. 

Eddie nodded, because, in theory, he did know. He understood. He felt it. But the rediscovery of their connection was barely a week old and felt as fragile as a newborn fawn in winter. And somehow Venom's reminder felt more like a rejection now. Like saying I love you and not hearing it back. Maybe he wouldn't miss Venom as much either if their roles were reversed, and he'd be swimming in their body instead. 

"We'd be happy to switch," they jumped in and Eddie shook his head, willing them half-heartedly out of his thoughts. 

"You stay where you are," he warned. He closed his eyes and shifted his body, trying to get as comfortable as possible. "So," he said quietly, "where were we?" He smiled, his lips as sleepy as the rest of him, as he got ready to let Venom do to him whatever they saw fit. 

Half an hour later, his heart was still racing and random muscles twitched here and there in his body. He watched the bed sheet lift and sink with his breaths. The privacy of the moment was as much a reward as all the substances his brain produced in the wake of his orgasm. Or had begun producing earlier even. Just being with Venom, experiencing their bond in all these different ways got a positive response out of him every time. 

His skin was still sensitive everywhere and he didn't dare to put his hands anywhere on his body. His cock was resting against the crook of his thigh, aching in that subtle spent manner, yet in ways it had never before. 

All of Venom's work, the friction and the stimulation had somehow all come from the inside, the symbiote teasing his nerves not at their endings but somewhere in the middle. Once more they had taken from him the release, and all that remained of his climax was a sense of relief and a distant pleasure that slowly washed up on the shores of Venom's appetite. 

He already knew there would be some discomfort next time he stood in front of the toilet, Venom stretching his body where it wasn't necessarily supposed to. They were taking up space in his veins frequently, between his organs whenever they wanted to, and up his ass since they had discovered the specific response an alien symbiote lodged against a human prostate could cause. They were up in his bladder and down in his testicles rather often, but Eddie still refused to put it on the list of kinks he openly acknowledged about himself. And although no part of his dick had been left undiscovered by Venom's tendrils,-- many times at his explicit request--, he wasn't entirely sure yet, what to make of that specific form of intrusion. No matter its direction. 

He wouldn't complain though, not now and not ever, and he didn't mind feeling sore. If it hadn't been for his refusal to talk about it, he would have asked Venom whether they'd left him with that low grade ache on purpose to do him a favor. 

He got dressed only hesitantly. The ongoing situation was draining him of all energy. But there was no way he could hide away an entire day. And no way he could put off showering for another twenty-four hours. 

The air out in the hall was moist from steam. Right. He remembered the footsteps and the running tap and the splashing water. The door to the bathroom stood slightly open, allowing the air to circulate, and a faint clicking noise escaped it every now and then. 

Eddie didn't need to hear any of the soft words spoken to know that both Bucky and Steve were in there. They were too preoccupied with each other to notice that he had moved past the threshold of his room.

There though, he stood deadly still. He didn't want to draw any attention to his presence. Just like he'd done at the motel he willed his body to slow and quiet, willed Venom to hide him in muffled silence. He waited for any movement directed towards him, any command from Steve that told him what to do or just Barnes telling him to get fucked. 

When none came, he leaned his body closer to catch more of what was said, to even risk a glance. 

"Just saying, Buck," he heard Steve say. Barnes made some noise of acknowledgement, but even though there was little tone in it, Eddie could tell that he wasn't in agreement with whatever Rogers had referred to. If Eddie wasn't mistaken then Steve laughed quietly at Bucky's non-response. His voice was even gentler when he spoke again. "It's the right thing to do." 

Eddie couldn't help but wonder if their conversation had anything to do with him. He risked inching his foot forward just a little bit. His curiosity was getting the better of him. 

Slowly, a fraction of the bathroom came into view. Though the only source of light inside was the window, Eddie narrowed his eyes as the brightness was in such high contrast to the dark hallway. 

With his white hair still damp, Rogers was sitting on the brim of the antique-looking bathtub, his eyes angled towards the floor. An unzipped navy blue sweater jacket was draped just over his shoulders, its sleeves dangling empty beside his naked chest and arms. With his hands, he was gripping the edge of the tub so tightly that his fingers were trembling with the effort. He had a towel wrapped around his hips that covered even his knees. What was left of his weight to balance, he did on just one foot. 

Bucky was sitting cross-legged at his feet, in just a tank top stained with water, the scars around his metal shoulder exposed, arms naked from when he'd helped Steve bathe, from when he'd washed him and rinsed his hair. His own hair was tied up higher than usual to keep strands from falling into his eyes. A towel was draped over his legs where Steve's other foot was resting. Though most of Barnes's back was turned towards him, Eddie believed he could see the lines of a frown reach the part of Bucky's temple that was visible to him, his face set in concentration as he patiently clipped the nails on each of Steve's toes. 

Eddie wanted to pull back right away, but he feared that every rash movement could give his transgression away. Just days ago he had asked Venom to soak up his urine, --or whatever the symbiote did when he asked them to take care of things--, just days ago he'd let them watch while he fingered himself senseless, just minutes ago he'd let them make him come without so much as leaving his body, but this--

\--this intimacy, this care and devotion, it was too much for Eddie to witness. In fact, he would have preferred to walk in on them tangled up in some kind of sexual act he could shame them for later in his head. This was so much worse. 

And yet he continued to watch. He watched while Bucky ran a hand over the arch of Steve's foot, as he brushed over each toe with the edge of the towel, as he motioned for Steve to put the other foot up in his lap, and all those long minutes it took for Steve to coordinate his legs without slipping from the edge of the tub. 

He finally took a step back when Barnes was done and ready to stand back up. Then another one to make sure he was out of their view. In the end, he was too slow, or Barnes was too fast. Either way, Eddie was still hovering just outside his room when Bucky appeared in the doorframe. He gave Eddie a brief once-over, somehow unsurprised and unconcerned to see him standing there. 

"We're almost done," he just said as if he was aware that they had taken longer than was possibly polite when one had guests and only a single bathroom. Then he just turned and walked off towards their bedroom, the one Eddie had been led into when he'd first came to the house. 

"No, that's-," Eddie started. He was confused, but that wasn't the only thing he felt. "That's okay," he finished, but in such an absent manner that he couldn't be sure that Bucky had heard him. He finally realized what it was that had begun bothering him three days ago. He hadn't been prepared to see Bucky be this open about this particular side of his relationship with Steve. Not after the look he'd given Eddie at the sight of their shared bed. He had expected this side of Bucky to be hidden away. He had expected it to be something for him to discover and to shed light on. But now he realized that it had nothing to do with him and never had. 

Barnes returned with a stack of clothes that Eddie guessed were for Steve to wear. 

"Do you need help?" Eddie asked. Somehow those words were out before he could think better of it. He knew he sounded somewhat patronizing. Even if his offer had been more than an attempt to mask the discomfort that was his and his alone, did he really believe he was welcome to help Steve into his underwear? 

Bucky threw him a strange look. He didn't know what to do with that odd question either. 

"No," he just said eventually and left Eddie standing there in his own embarrassment. 

* * *

Afterwards, Eddie had taken purposefully long in the bathroom to avoid seeing either of the two again for as long as he could. He had made use of the showerhead, stepping into the old bathtub for the first time. The shower curtain was milky white and had blueberries painted only on its outer side that, from where Eddie was standing, looked like overripe grapes with nipples as they shone through the water-resistant fabric. 

The water had been clear and warm and the pressure was surprisingly strong, but a faint scent of ocean still fell onto him as he let it wash over his body.

Downstairs, Steve had made coffee like every morning. On a plate at the table sat a chocolate chip muffin next to a lone bowl and a box of cereal. Eddie hadn't heard anyone leave the house or start the truck so he couldn't really place where it came from. 

Part of him wanted to keep the chocolate for later, for days when he hadn't had some strange new sex with his symbiote and needed to feed them differently. But he knew the smart thing was to just get a stash for himself the first chance he got. He would have to head back to the motel anyway within the next couple of days to pay for another week's stay. 

"Thanks," Eddie said as he sat down. Not once had either Steve or Bucky eaten with him. All they ever did was watch him. So was it really a big deal that he had turned the tables for once? It didn't seem to bother them that he had. And somehow that was more irritating than them watching him all the time like a pot about to boil. 

Barnes was pinning him down with a stare right that second. He was wearing a henley now, with the sleeves rolled up, --even over the metal arm--, but Eddie glanced to where he now knew were the scars instead. There was some confusion left in Bucky's gaze, possibly from earlier and Eddie's stupid question, but next to it were his usual expression of pity and disgust. 

"How did you sleep?" Steve asked as he filled Eddie's cup. His tone was as friendly as ever although he couldn't have missed Bucky running into Eddie in the hallway while he was waiting for his clothes in the bathroom. 

"Fine," Eddie told him, picking a chocolate chip from the side of his muffin. It wasn't the truth. Nervousness was slowly taking hold of his thoughts. There was no way that his absence in town was going unnoticed and he knew he needed to return soon. 

"And how are you feeling?" Rogers added. As he nudged Bucky out of the way so he could rinse the pot, Steve brushed his fingers gently over the metal surface of his forearm as if it were skin. 

"Normal," Eddie said, bringing his eyes back to his breakfast. 

"Any changes?" Steve wondered. He got the milk from the fridge and placed it onto the table.

"None," Eddie replied, taking a polite sip of coffee. It seemed to lose taste with every new day. "Did you hear from Bess?" he asked cautiously. "Any news on that other guest?" 

"Nothing too alarming," Steve said, sitting down with Eddie. The table in front of him remained empty once more. Maybe he and Barnes had breakfast in bed every morning.

"What does that mean, _too alarming_?" Eddie asked. Rogers was intentionally causing some agitation and Eddie didn't like it. 

"It's just odd that they haven't left yet, that's all," Steve told him. His gaze went somewhere far away and Eddie wondered if he was trying to remember something else he wanted to say. But the seconds passed and he didn't add anything. 

"Well, the weather," Eddie started but didn't elaborate any further. In his eyes, it was argument enough. 

"Still," Bucky said, speaking for the first time since Eddie had come down here with them. "If they had somewhere to be, they wouldn't waste all these days in the same town. They would have tried the road." 

"Great," Eddie said, shaking his head. "So for now we assume they're the bad guys?" 

Barnes just nodded. 

Eddie brought his gaze back to Steve, assessing his mental state this morning. 

"I've heard there were plenty of those after the snap," he said, stirring his cereal to distract from where he was going with this. "Bad guys. Villains. Vigilantes." 

Steve looked at him with an open, amused expression. As if he was listening to a kid, indulging its telling of a fantastical story. 

"You must have had a lot on your hands then," Eddie added, glancing up from his bowl. 

"It was a time of intense grief," Steve said, dodging the question. 

"Do you still have it?" Eddie asked then. Trying to get Steve to talk was worse than reading hundreds of classified papers that had more blacked out sentences than paragraphs. Nothing made much sense. "The shield?" he clarified, putting his spoon down for good. 

Steve's reply came fast, without hesitation or doubt. "No," he told Eddie. The clarity was surprising. It reminded Eddie to not underestimate Steve just because he was old. 

"Did something happen to it?" Eddie wondered. 

"It was never mine," Steve said. "It was simply borrowed. Keeping it would have been wrong." Once again he spoke with a sharpness that Eddie noted with some astonishment. 

"People are looking for you though," Eddie said carefully. "For things that were wrong. For helping Bucky escape. For violating international law." He was well aware that Bucky was standing right there, listening to every word. 

"Everyone who had signed the accords ended up regretting it," Steve said. It seemed that he tried to keep his tone neutral, friendly even, but the bitterness was impossible to miss. "And you, too, are in violation of them right now. The accords demand that every enhanced individual disclose their name to hundreds of international politicians. Did you do that after realizing you can climb a tree in under three seconds?" 

Eddie shook his head but remained silent. He was angry with himself for bringing this up. It wasn't new information to him. During his initial research, he had read the Sokovia Accords multiple times. Though he, --personally--, would argue that he wasn't enhanced at all, but simply living with an extraterrestrial being who on itself didn't even possess any powers. But he wasn't naive enough to believe that that any governmental authorities would share his views. 

Still, he needed to compartmentalize or otherwise he wouldn't be able to do his job at all. 

"We were fugitives once before the snap," Steve admitted then, taking Eddie one more time by surprise. "Running from an unjust legal system. And now we're forced to do it again," he continued. Eddie was taken aback by that phrasing. There had never been a time in between where those two had not, at least officially, been sought by the police for a whole bunch of different charges. Unless he was referring to Bucky's disappearance with the snap. "If you have a problem with that you're welcome to turn us in," Steve dared him. "And yourself as well while you're at it." 

"I wasn't-," Eddie started defensively. But he didn't know how to end that sentence. 

Steve didn't care about the lost finish. He exchanged another one of those unreadable looks with Bucky before he stood. "Now," he began again, his voice all cheerful and caring, "let's get to the bottom of whatever is stuck so fiercely to your heart." 

* * *

This time, Steve took a magnet from the fridge and plastered it against Eddie's chest. With one hand against his back he felt for any significant changes. Once Steve reversed the positions, Venom saw it fit to mess with him, and held onto the magnet with microscopic tendrils. Eddie sighed internally when both Bucky and Steve looked at each other cluelessly. 

Then Steve made him put on sweats and sent him outside and run laps like a schoolboy in soccer practice while Barnes and him watched from the tiny porch for noticable changes. Soon though, the cold forced Steve inside and he left Eddie out there with just Bucky who wouldn't let up. Instead he pushed Eddie relentlessly, clearly intending to trigger some sort of breakthrough by inducing physical exhaustion. 

Instead of helping him out, Venom ran a commentary in Eddie's head, listing all the muscles he was over-exercising. Eddie knew they were conducting their own little experiment, mapping his response to the inevitable soreness, the burns in his lungs and beneath his ribs, and the pain in his arms and shoulders from his amateur posture, but he didn't tell them to quit it. He was determined to quite literally outrun this discussion. 

All of the softer curves of his body made themselves known in his tracks. His belly, and his thighs and his chest a little bit too, places he hadn't noticed changing before. The sensation made him want to leave Barnes in the cold, head back to bed with Venom instead and take a good look at the shape of those places skin to skin and naked with his symbiote. 

He didn't know how he managed, jogging clumsily through the snow, but his dick responded to the image, was half hard despite everything. 

"Not. The pain," Eddie stated, his panting breaths masking his words. He didn't even have a poor breathing technique, he had none at all, and the thought of his bed, --any bed really--, began nagging at him like an intrusive thought difficult to ignore.

"What then, Eddie?" Venom asked, curious. 

"You," Eddie said on a rough exhale. 

"We," Venom corrected, but they sounded delighted in Eddie's head. 

The ache in his legs subsided a little and Eddie gave Venom more credit than some bogus painkilling hormones he never seemed able to produce. 

Barnes motioned for him to keep going, but Eddie slowed down instead, bracing himself on his knees. 

"What's the matter?" Bucky asked, his voice sounding different now that he was forced to speak up. 

"I'm going back to bed," Eddie muttered to himself as he stood up and gave Barnes just another shrug. He put both hands on his waist, squeezing gently to soothe the side stitches. 

Bucky stepped off the porch and made his way over to him. Though it was still early in the afternoon the sun stood low and illuminated Bucky's figure in an almost ethereal manner. 

"You okay?" Bucky asked once he'd fully crossed the distance. 

Eddie nodded and took a couple of steps forward, dragging his feet over the ground to put his exhaustion on display. 

When his foot got stuck in a mound of snow, Bucky reached out to steady him by the elbow. 

It all came back to Eddie then. All those times Barnes had watched his steps to make sure he wouldn't trip. The one time he caught him when Eddie actually did slip. The time when Bucky had asked him whether he was okay taking the stairs. Worse though, his brain chose to replay that scene from the morning over and over again. 

And with it the truce and the silence was over. 

"Don't do that," Eddie snapped. Why, he had no idea. "I'm not him, I can take a fall." 

Barnes scoffed and shoved Eddie away from his body. "Can you?" He sounded somewhat amused, like he had when he called Eddie funny all those nights ago. This time, Eddie couldn't stand it. 

"Seriously, man, what are you doing?" Eddie asked, making one bad choice after the other. "You already lost five years." 

Not a split second later, something impossibly hard connected with Eddie's collarbone and sent him stumbling backwards. It wasn't enough to knock him off his feet, Venom was faster than that, so anger flared up in Bucky's eyes. But the moment Eddie registered it, it was already too late. Barnes's body came crashing into his, sending both of them flying until Eddie's back hit the snow in a muted thump. Bucky landed on him, heavy with muscles and metal, and drove his body into Eddie's. 

"Stay the fuck out of my business," he growled directly into Eddie's ears. His lips were so close that Eddie could hear every sound that his tongue made as he spoke, and feel the spit that left his mouth on the sharpened ' _f_ '. 

"Get off me," Eddie told him, curling his fists in Bucky's jacket. As he pulled on it, he realized he was already tapping into Venom's strength. 

Bucky did get off him, but that wasn't the end of it. He grabbed Eddie by the collar and dragged him ten feet over the snow. Eddie thrashed his legs violently, trying to pull free. But even with the symbiote's strength, he didn't succeed. All bets were off and Barnes was revealing his own superhuman strengths without mercy. 

"Let us, Eddie," Venom pleaded, but Eddie shook his head, gasping for air. He knew they could easily free themselves if he'd let Venom loose, let them leave the confines of his body, but he didn't want Barnes witnessing the extent of how much Eddie was hiding. 

His spine hit the trunk of a tree with full force as Bucky slammed him against the rough surface, pine needles raining down on them from the shockwave that was sent up into the branches by the collision. 

"I think you're full of shit," Bucky snarled, pressing his forearm brutally against Eddie's windpipe. "I think whatever you say is wrong with your body is just what's wrong with you." 

Eddie could feel Venom swelling in his chest and pushing up into the back of his head, up from his throat, so dense and thick that he had to fight his gag reflex from the inside out. He knew his tongue was black when he spoke. 

"Don't," he forced out, calling on Venom and Bucky alike. 

Barnes let go of him suddenly, but the break lasted for only one desolate second. Then Barnes was back on him. He slapped Eddie across the face first, hard and humiliating, and Eddie's knees buckled, his body sacking down in shock. Bucky pulled him back up by his collar instantly, slammed his body into the tree not once, but four times more, until he held him there and kicked Eddie's feet back under his body with more violence than necessary. 

Eddie cried out in pain as he felt the kneecap of the leg he'd just twisted days ago on their way to the motel dislocate itself. Bucky didn't bat an eye, instead he dug his own knee painfully into Eddie's thigh, pinning him in place. Then he leaned in far too close again. 

"Don't ever think again, not for one second, that I care to hear your pointless opinion on my relationships." Barnes leaned back from Eddie to make eye contact with him before he spat out another order. "Keep that shit to yourself."

Fine. Eddie knew better than to hand out unsolicited advice. He certainly had some of the push-back coming. And maybe they could have left it there. But all sense and rational thought had been beaten out of Eddie by then. 

"The world doesn't end where he does," Eddie said, catching his breath. Every part of his back and chest hurt whenever he inhaled. 

Barnes was taken aback by the statement but he didn't ease off. His body had stiffened, keeping Eddie firmly trapped. Then he pushed his metal arm back under Eddie's chin, pushing against Eddie's throat with all his weight until his vision blurred. 

Eddie blinked, then icy air rushed over his face at once, filling nose and mouth and lungs, gently cooling all of the burning aches. He blinked once more to clear his swimming gaze, but when he saw Bucky in front of him, he realized a second later that that wasn't what had happened. 

No, Eddie hadn't blinked. His eyes had flashed white and Venom had flickered over his face or, more likely, his whole body. 

"What the fuck are you?" Barnes asked, looking at Eddie not with pity and disgust, but bewildered and even scared. He hadn't let go of Eddie completely. His hand was still pressed against Eddie's chest, but his arm was stretched to full length in order to bring as much distance between them as possible. 

"I don't want to hurt you," Eddie said, surprising himself with the truth. He didn't want to and he hadn't meant to. 

Barnes glanced down to where his hand connected with Eddie's chest. Eddie doubted that he could feel something aside from his racing heart and his heaving lungs. 

"I'm just-," Eddie tried, but he had no explanation for his behavior either. 

"You're overstepping, that's what you are," Bucky finished, but if his current state was any indication, then overstepping was too weak a word. Going by the look in his eyes, Eddie had stripped his nerves raw. Bucky took another condescending look at him before he let go of him for good. 

* * *

There was still a small patch of ice at the side of his shoe and Eddie sat, hunched over, on the edge of what constituted his bed here on beach plum bank and watched it melt. 

His laptop lay beside him on the mattress. He had no doubts that Barnes had opened it multiple times by now, had turned it on and checked for any information on who Eddie really was. But he wasn't worried about his files. His computer was password protected, all of his important folders were hidden, and access to his cloud only possible via multi-factor authentication. 

Drops of water ran down the sides of his shoes like tears, and for the first time since he'd decided to pursue this chase, he wondered if all this was worth it. He couldn't have stayed in San Francisco, not after everything that had happened. But he realized now that he'd gone into this headless, desperate, chased by his own demons he was trying to outrun. 

There was no denying that he had nothing to lose. But what was there to gain from an old man who could barely remember those he had fought side by side with time and time again? From an old man and his hopeless, feral lover? From an old man who could barely remember for how long he'd been on the run with him? Here in that moment, it seemed possible that Eddie had nothing to gain either.

A tiny puddle of meltwater gathered next to his foot. Eddie dipped the tip of his finger into the cool pooling liquid and began drawing little circles onto the wood. His knuckle was bloody, scraped open against the bark of that tree and his body was sore all over, ached even when he didn't move. 

"What are you doing, Eddie?" Venom asked. They hadn't spoken at all on their way back to the house. Eddie was hardly at risk of forgetting that he wasn't alone, but he had been thankful to pretend for a bit that he could have his mind to himself. He wasn't able, still, to put into words, into thoughts, what had happened outside. What had escalated the situation, what had stopped him from just keeping quiet. 

"Thinking, love," he told them. He shook out his finger, winced, then lifted his head and straightened his back, --wincing some more. As his muscles shifted, he felt the symbiote shift as well, like a second skeleton wedged between all his swollen bones. "You?" he wondered, carefully massaging his neck with one hand. 

"Fixing your knee," they said. The accusatory tone rang loud and clear even if they didn't say a word out loud. 

"Our knee," Eddie corrected them. He smiled though as he lay back on the bed for a second. Grimacing, he stretched out his legs, using his heels for leverage. His throat was bruised, stinging and burning, his voice hoarse and scratchy. "You know you don't have to worry about every injury, right? They'll all heal in time." 

He could feel Venom's irritation. Of course this wasn't one of those times. He needed Venom to put his body back together and both of them were aware of that. Eddie placed his hand over his heart, seeking contact despite, --or because--, of everything. Some of the built up tension was already subsiding when he felt tender tendrils stroking over the skin of his palm, hidden from the world and just for him to feel. 

He took a deep breath and tried to focus back on where he was and what he was trying to achieve here. Rogers and Barnes allowed him to stay with them which was closer than any investigator, --public, private, police or otherwise--, had ever gotten. 

Now wasn't the time to doubt himself nor what he was doing. Instead he turned to his laptop and sat up carefully while he waited for it to boot. Rogers and Barnes were downstairs, most likely discussing what to do with him now. He shrugged at the thought, flinching when pain shot up and down his shoulder blades, and opened his draft. 

Reading over what he'd written before, Eddie frowned. All the words felt unfamiliar now, and worse, untrue. He selected the headline first and hit delete. Then he typed out a new one, biting his bottom lip as he leaned into the inspiration. 

_Fading Light -- The Deterioration of Captain America_

_By Eddie Brock._

Eddie's frown deepened when he realized that his fingers were trembling as he typed out the byline. He tightened them to a fist before releasing them a second later, concentrating on the task at hand.

_Washington County, Maine. November 2024._  
_Day is done for Captain Steven G. Rogers._

He lingered on the line, the cursor blinking evenly at its end. Steve wasn't dead yet. He was old, he was fragile, and he was hard to look at. But he was still alive. His heart was still beating in that same rhythm. 

Softly, Eddie drummed his finger along on one of the keys, ticking away the seconds he spent staring. Along with the cursor, along with the heart. Then he broke the paragraph and typed out another word underneath that sentence.

_Almost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say Thank You, --again and so much--, for reading!!
> 
> ...And yes, Eddie is projecting HARD and NON-STOP here. More on that later.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a moment of self-recognition and one of absolute self-loss alike, --there on the bed, while he was supposed to listen and supposed to interact. For a moment Eddie couldn't recall that he and Venom used to be two separate entities. For a moment nothing _pre-Venom_ existed and nothing _post-Venom_ ever could. Separation was impossible. For a moment he forgot why he'd been so angry, so afraid. 

But the moment he looked up, it all came back with clarity. The humanity of it. His life and his body. Their body. And the reality of what he'd brought to the table hit him once more. The weakest link. 

"I think waiting for an apology might be a waste of your time." 

It was the first time Steve spoke to him alone. He was standing in the doorway to the guest bedroom like some kind of grandfatherly figure, wearing a cardigan over boney shoulders and leaning against the jamb with a compassionate yet serious expression. None of the battles were written into him, but all of the years. 

"I do think he's sorry though," Steve added. He raised an eyebrow over his own words,-- unsure whether to believe them himself,-- then scratched it with a finger, its nail freshly cut. 

Although Barnes was known for his precision, all the bodies left in his wake were usually dead. Not Steve's body. Steve's body was old, but he didn't show a single sign of neglect. His hair was cut and combed, his skin was creased but never dry. Every day he was neatly shaved and wore a fresh set of clothes. All in all, he appeared to be doing better than Eddie had throughout his twenties. 

"I'm not expecting one," Eddie told him. An apology would have been nice. He would have accepted it too, but he hadn't expected it. He wasn't even sure he'd deserve it. 

Like siblings being scolded separately, Eddie pictured Barnes hiding somewhere behind Rogers in the hall, gleeful that, --even though he hadn't gotten away with his crime entirely--, he would forgo punishment. Eddie had no idea why he was trying to manifest this fucked up family dynamic. It was far more likely that Barnes didn't even care about Steve's attempts at rebuilding peace, that he was dealing with his own shit rather than hovering around the house like some protective pitbull. 

Aside from the occasional ache in vague and undefinable areas, Eddie's body wasn't in pain anymore anyway. And it didn't matter if it were. If Bucky had lashed out worse than he did, Eddie could have taken that beating too. He wasn't fragile, he wasn't Steve. 

"It's nothing, it's-," Eddie started, then stopped himself. The words sounded ridiculous even to him and he was convinced he did a bad job pretending otherwise. "It was my fault." 

Steve looked at him for a long moment, his expression unchanged. But by the way his lips twitched without parting, without speaking, Eddie guessed that he was contemplating a reply. Remaining silent though, Steve stepped into the room eventually and closed the door behind him. As he moved towards Eddie in slow steps, in slow motion, Eddie sat up a little straighter subconsciously. 

It all hung in the balance now, Eddie's work and his future, the article and what little trust had been established. It wasn't far fetched at all to believe Steve was here not to mend fences but to inform Eddie of a decision already made. To tell him to pack his bags. After all, Bucky had reacted to his provocations, simple as that. And Eddie figured by his silence that Steve was aware of the reason behind the physical altercation that took place outside. Somehow Eddie was hesitant to call it a fight. It had been too short, too explosive, too one sided for it to be a fight. 

"What did you expect?" Steve wondered, confirming Eddie's suspicion. His question came off as passive-aggressive and the victim blaming was uncalled for. However, his expression was of genuine curiosity. It fucked with Eddie's head. Steve fucked with his head. He was just incredibly irritating, all day every day. 

"Answers, maybe," Eddie replied. He suppressed the impulse to glance over to his bag. 

His laptop was wrapped in another shirt and carefully placed at its bottom. What he had written about Steve and Bucky wasn't flattering. It was dramatic enough for those two, but highlighted an unattractive self-righteousness. He'd recapped the origins of Steve's exceptional capabilities, the classified scientific experiments, the groundbreaking results. The stardom of the howling commando, Roger's suicide attempt and the idolization of his corpseless death in post-war America. He'd written how, after spending so many years frozen in arctic ice, the man, the shield and the symbol had come under unprecedented turmoil in the past decades. How this lengthy celebrated hero found himself tangled up in delicate affairs, --personal and international. Eddie had pointed out the irony more so than the tragedy of how Steve's once welcomed disobedience had suddenly been criminalized. He'd revealed the century old devotion, not to the country, not to the flag, but to a man of his past. He'd voyeuristically exploited the queer desires at the core of Roger's dissent. He'd painted a colorful picture of how Captain America had fallen victim not to his traumatic past nor the crushing weight of social expectations, but his own narcissism and the sands of time. Eddie had outlined the journey from celebrity to criminal to outcast, and lastly -- even after facing Thanos, his army and death once more, -- to elderly, to fragile, to almost forgotten. 

Then he had saved the changes and closed the document. 

There was a point to be made about his recklessness of working so openly on his article, but Eddie had figured the three of them were in the same boat now anyway. They couldn't part ways until learning the truth about each other. One way or another. Now it was becoming clear that he may have been wrong about that. 

"Answers to things that don't concern you?" Steve probed, reminding Eddie that he was pushing into other people's business. But that was Eddie's job, and he didn't need to be lectured about it. Sticking his nose where it didn't belong was the one thing he was exceptionally good at. 

"They don't concern me, but they should concern you," Eddie told Steve bluntly. He tried for a second to focus on all senses, to get a vague idea of Bucky's location in the house. When he came up clueless, he hoped it was a sign that Barnes was outside, shoveling snow or chopping wood, or putting his superhuman strength to otherwise good use. He didn't want to collide with Barnes's fist again so soon. 

"How so?" Steve asked. His curious expression hadn't changed, but his simple questions were beginning to annoy Eddie. Not just his questions. The way he stood in front of Eddie, too straight, too open, his shoulders and feet aligned and with his hands on his belt. There he was, still Captain America on the inside. In his bones and his muscles and probably his blood. But on the outside he was just an old man, a veteran, whose military past couldn't be erased. 

"I don't know how you do it," Eddie explained. He was trying to keep his tone neutral, but it was harder than he had expected. Rogers was hitting all the wrong spots, causing agitation in Eddie even when Venom was calm. "He was gone for five years," Eddie continued. "You must have mourned him. You must have buried whatever you had left of his dust in an otherwise empty grave. It's what my friends did. What my ex-girlfriend did. It must have been awful. Indescribably painful," he added, knowing this conversation was better off in a therapist's office. "I can imagine what it was like to have him back then. I can imagine not wanting to let him go again. But you can't be oblivious to all of this?" Eddie gestures around them as he spoke, before pointing towards the door behind Steve. "To his sacrifice?" 

It wasn't that Steve seemed particularly stunned, but he didn't indicate having a response to any of what Eddie had said either. So Eddie forced in another, the same old question. 

"What the hell happened to you?"

Steve sat down next to him on the bed. It only occurred to Eddie then that he had probably been waiting for an invitation to do just that. But Eddie's mind had been elsewhere. Now, the proximity didn't feel natural at all. Eddie tried to subtly scoot a couple of inches to the side. If he was rude, then because he'd been assaulted just hours ago and been expected to take all the responsibility himself. Steve didn't comment on it.

"I am not as senile as you believe me to be," he said instead. Eddie wanted to protest, argue that those weren't his thoughts at all, --although that had been his precise impression--, but he didn't get the chance to put even a syllable out. "I do know that I am old," Steve continued instead. "And although Bucky has been around for a long time too, I'm not oblivious to the fact that he doesn't look like it." At that Steve smiled wistfully and even blushed beneath otherwise pale skin. And it made Eddie blush in return and he had to cast his eyes down. "He doesn't have many friends," Steve added. 

It wasn't hard to believe, yet from what little interaction Eddie had witnessed between Bucky and Bess, --hell, from his own tentative interactions with him--, it was hard to believe that it was difficult for Barnes to make friends if he wanted to. Eddie guessed he just didn't want to. 

"He didn't have to come with me after everything," Steve went on without sparing Eddie much attention. Barnes could have that effect on people. Take up all the space in their heads. Eddie knew from experience. "And, to be honest, at the time, I didn't think he would," Steve admitted. "I thought he would make use of his abilities differently from lifting me out of the tub." He huffed, possibly to gloss over some embarrassment. Eddie hadn't given much thought to how the encounter that morning had affected Steve himself. "I thought maybe he would use them for good. Maybe, at one point, I thought, just briefly, I thought he would take up the shield even. But I was deluding myself. He could have never walked away from me." It seems there was something Steve wanted to add instinctively, but he held himself back at the last second. "I am about a lifetime older than him now. And here he is, keeping a promise he made a century ago." 

Steve paused to swallow and Eddie mirrored him once more. He was captivated although he couldn't explain why. There weren't many facts or answers Eddie could take from this, but he had that inkling that the story was finally beginning to unfold. Bit by bit. And the anticipation was enough of a reward. 

"I know he beat you up pretty badly. I know that," Steve assured him. "But I think your company does him good. He's been around me for too long and he's not doing well." 

"It's post snap depression," Eddie said without thinking. Steve looked up and straight at him, processing the odd turn of conversation. Eddie shrugged. "I um-," he started again. Now his own words confused him. The way they had just fallen out. "I think that's what it is. It's difficult to, you know, adjust." 

Steve nodded and looked down at his hands. He didn't seem to agree with Eddie's diagnosis, not really, but he feigned some consideration. 

"Buck told me he saw you change in an unexpected way," Steve said then. He didn't bother to look up and face him, so Eddie figured he wasn't being accused of anything this time.   
  
"I blinked and then," Eddie recalled honestly. "Then Bucky looked at me as if I wasn't real or something." He followed Steve's gaze to see what was of such interest there.

The loose skin of Steve's hands was covered in spots and accompanied by strong veins. His knuckles looked slightly swollen as Steve fumbled with the base of his left ring finger with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. The habit was so widely spread that, if it were any other person, the gesture wouldn't have caught Eddie's attention. Now though, along with Rogers, he stared at the phantom indentation between the two knots of bones where surely a wedding band had been, must have been, year after year, decade after decade, to bring forward a mannerism like that. 

"It's protecting you, isn't it?" Steve asked. If Eddie hadn't been distracted by the ring that wasn't there, that couldn't have ever been there, he might have reacted to the insinuation. "That thing inside you," Steve continued. "Maybe it's somehow aware that you're trying to protect it in return. From those you are running from."

"Thing?" Venom echoed offended inside Eddie's head. Their voice brought Eddie's gaze back up and his focus back into the conversation immediately. Just in time for him to catch Steve's finish. 

"Makes you wonder what's left there for us to do," he added, still not making any effort to face Eddie. His eyes were set on the wall opposite of them instead. 

"What are you saying?" Eddie asked. The implication was all he could focus on now. They weren't running from anyone, but that hardly seemed to matter. If Steve thought that Eddie could look after himself, was looked after, he wouldn't have a reason to keep him around. Eddie tried to calm himself, but he was getting angry at Steve for the way he messed with his head, sending him into a panic intentionally. 

"Are you religious at all?" Steve asked out of the blue, facing Eddie at last. Although Eddie felt that he was minutes away from being kicked out onto the street, it was Steve who looked defeated. 

Eddie shook his head even before the movement registered consciously. "Maybe in another life," he said. 

Religion wasn't his, but simply because he had never bothered to give it a second thought. It was by luck, --or misfortune--, that no one had ever preached to him in those moments he felt susceptible to faith. When he had needed it even.

"But what about all those rules and commandments and sins?" Venom cut in, taking that train of thought to a sudden halt. "You would have to abandon us, Eddie. Exorcise the bond."

"See, I have a confession to make," Steve said, unaware of Eddie's divided focus. He held Eddie's eyes, who, for a lack of options, returned the intense contact. "And I hear reporters are today's priests." 

Eddie couldn't have faked such a perfect display of non-reaction. It was too much at once. Venom's complaints and Steve's remark. He'd been on the edge, been waiting for the other shoe to drop since Steve had come to his room, but the adrenaline had worn off and the tension had been torn to all sides, that he'd completely missed it coming down in the end. 

"You are a reporter, aren't you?" Steve asked. Maybe he was disappointed with Eddie's reaction. Maybe he hadn't even wanted to get a shock out of him in the first place. 

"You looked me up," Eddie guessed. Slowly, his heart was beginning to pump loudly through his head, his ears, and his stomach turned to stone. He barely heard his own reply, the words reaching him through water, broken and distorted. He couldn't make out whether his voice sounded as perplexed as he felt.

"Does anyone really need to do research on Eddie Brock?" Steve asked in return. "On The Brock Report?" 

It was bullshit, Eddie thought. Of course he had done some research. Of course Barnes had. But he hadn't ever lied about his identity and they had taken him in despite it being out in the open. Somewhere out in the open at least. 

"That was before the snap," he told Steve automatically. He didn't need to lie to defend himself. "Before everything. I don't have any credentials, not anymore. I can barely sell a wildlife piece to my editor." 

"I'm aware of that," Steve just said. "I don't really care about credentials," he added. Eddie couldn't deny the tiny hurt in his pride that followed Steve's statements.

"Then what are you looking for?" Eddie asked. Though Steve seemed more open now, Eddie had no clue what he wanted from him. Or any reporter for that matter. "What kind of confession are we talking about?" 

"You wondered about my story, about what happened," Steve started to explain. "You questioned me about it." 

Eddie bit his tongue, but it wasn't enough to keep him silent. "You want to tell me your story?" he asked, struck with surprise. He hadn't seen that one coming. 

"In exchange for our help," Steve offered, never mind the fact that he had just questioned the usefulness of their support minutes ago. "You can continue to work with Bucky. Let him help you figure out how to make use of the thing inside you." 

"The thing," Venom echoed again, displeased. Eddie took a moment to compose himself and let the distraction pass. He couldn't afford it. Although Steve hadn't called him out on any lies directly, Eddie didn't know if he was still on thin ice or already drowning without noticing. 

"Okay," he said then, "but I don't think he wants to work with me anymore. I think he's made that pretty clear."

"I think what's clear is that you said some things he doesn't want to hear," Steve argued. "Things I couldn't ever say to him." He paused for a second, his eyes going back to his hands before settling on Eddie's again. "Even if I'd thought of them myself." There was another pause, though shorter, but Steve's voice had changed, sounding pained now. "I don't think all of his life should be about looking after me. Keeping me safe and keeping my secrets. Not after what I have done."

"I didn't mean-," Eddie started, then paused irritated when Steve shook his head. It was difficult to understand what Steve was hinting at. "I wasn't trying to say he should leave you," Eddie finished. Maybe his words had implied just that, but if, then unintentionally so. He had just wanted to understand. 

"It doesn't matter what you and I think," Steve just said. "He makes his own choices. But I like your honesty. I think that's what a good reporter is all about." 

All the composure Eddie had mustered up began to crumble anew. He really was lucky he wasn't a religious man, that he could find excuses for all his sins later. 

"Not a word to him about this though, not a word to anyone," Steve added. "That's my first condition." 

Eddie frowned. He couldn't make sense of this request. Given the state of their relationship, he couldn't imagine Steve having much to say that Bucky didn't know already. 

"Will you tell me his story?" Eddie asked although he knew as he spoke that it was a long shot. He didn't bother spelling out Bucky's name.

"Only as far as it's part of mine," Steve said. Eddie guessed that was more than anyone could have ever hoped to learn about the Winter Soldier. 

"And the second one?" Eddie asked. "The second condition?" 

"You can't do anything with it, with the story, until I'm gone. Until I'm, well, dead," Steve said. He smiled at Eddie, but it was a sad smile. And Eddie's guilty conscience skyrocketed again. "You can't publish any of it while I'm still alive."

Eddie took a deep breath. It was a lot to ask of him as a reporter. Steve's condition was anyone's guess. He could live years, decades even. 

"You are going to tell me your story," Eddie recapped what was on the table. "All of it. On the record." 

"Under those conditions," Steve reminded him. They were eye to eye now in more ways than one. 

"On the record?" Eddie asked again. 

"On the record," Steve confirmed. "Under those conditions." 

"Under those conditions," Eddie assured him and offered his hand. It was strange and uncomfortable when Steve shook it, their position next to each other loosening the effect of the gesture. 

Steve's hand was warm and his grip was strong and Eddie wondered if he was really prepared to sit on a story for however long it took for Steve to live the rest of his life. There was no way in hell that his editor was going to allow a story gathering dust inside a drawer, so he needed to deal with that too. At one point in the future, he would have to make a choice. For now though, he postponed that decision. All there was left to do now was hope that it was a good story. And that Barnes wasn't going to accidentally kill him before it was told. 

Silently, Eddie watched Steve get back on his feet. He didn't want to betray him. All of his lies aside, the ones he couldn't ever take back and had to carry going forward, he didn't want to add himself to the list of people who had wronged Captain America for no good reason. 

Rogers was already reaching for the door knob when Eddie stopped him, calling out his name. 

"Steve?" He waited for a second until Rogers had turned around and they were facing each other again. "What happened to the shield?" 

Steve nodded as if he was a professor at the end of a lecture and Eddie just a student who had asked a very smart and very reasonable question. One that he had been anticipating. 

"Don't worry," he told Eddie. "It's still out there" He glanced towards the window for a second before focusing back on Eddie. "I'm sure it'll resurface in the news soon enough. I passed it to a good man." He nodded again and offered Eddie another smile. "Captain America is still out there." 

Smiling back, Eddie waited patiently until Steve's footsteps were out of earshot. Then he reached for the pillow at his side and pressed it firmly against his mouth, muffling the string of curses, groans and ugly grunts of frustration, --every last outburst of profanity he couldn't hold back any longer.

Even if the article was going to sell well, it wouldn't be enough to buy back his sanity. 


	9. Chapter 9

At night, Eddie tried to block out the room around them. The bed was too narrow to get super comfortable in and it was too close to the wall to fight off the frost that was creeping all over the windows in artistic patterns. Although the temperatures didn't fall as low as they did during that first storm, Eddie's nose and ears were cold at their tips. 

Most of Venom was curled up in his belly, tweaking his organs as he tossed and turned. He rearranged the pillow, trying to create a barrier and isolate himself from where they were stuck thanks to him. His body was restless because his mind couldn't slow down. 

As far as his plan went, all he could do in the upcoming days was play along to the agreement he had entered into. He would let Bucky work him over and try to make slow yet steady progress on his pretend-powers. And he'd listen to whatever Steve was willing to tell him, take notes and even have his phone record the conversations. Sooner or later he would need to convince Steve to let him use the interview and the subsequent story right away. If not right away, then within the next couple of months. This year would most likely end without Eddie's name on the front page, but he had learned to be somewhat patient over the past weeks. Tracking down James _Bucky_ Barnes had taught him, albeit begrudgingly, to sit and wait for his turn. 

One question was still nagging Eddie's sleep deprived brain, one uncertainty he couldn't bring himself to let go. It didn't make sense for Rogers to trust him. Taking into account the convenience of Eddie's sudden appearance in Steve's and Bucky's lives, and adding his pre-snap reputation to the consideration, it still didn't explain Steve's eagerness to _confess_ his story to a complete stranger. 

"Maybe he's gone insane," Eddie muttered and pulled the blanket all the way up over his chin and lips. 

Venom stirred, --the physical sensation possibly just Eddie's imagination--, but he could feel them gathering their thoughts and jamming them tightly into their own synapses, keeping him out from whatever thought had crossed their mind. 

"What's that about, love?" he asked quietly. 

He was certain that Steve and Bucky were asleep by now. Over the past couple of days he'd learned their rhythm, but more importantly he got better attuned to reading the signals their bodies pushed onto his and Venom's shared senses. They had been arguing that night, no doubt over him staying in this very house. Bucky had returned only after Eddie and Steve had shared a very awkward, very stiff dinner of grilled mussels and clams that neither he nor Venom particularly enjoyed. 

"What are you up to?" Eddie asked again when the symbiote remained silent. "And don't say nothing." 

"We're hungry, Eddie," they let him know. But after all that shellfish the mere mention of food made Eddie's stomach turn. 

"What did you not want me to know just now?" he asked. For a second, he tried to sort through their bond again, figuring out if he'd been mistaken. But there was a blank slate now where there had been thoughts before. 

"Not know," Venom told him, spreading out into more parts of their shared body. "We already know. You already know. We're not sure you want to realize." 

Eddie smiled and shook his head. He wasn't getting it. He put more work into recalling his train of thought, clueless as to what Venom was referring to. 

"He's dying, Eddie," Venom said then, cutting his efforts short. "We sensed it."

"I don't-," Eddie started. His smile remained frozen on his face for a handful of seconds before it turned into a helpless grimace. "I don't understand," he said, although there wasn't much left to grasp or make sense of. "He's just old," he added. Defensively. Eddie had no clue why he was going into denial over an old man he barely knew and his journey towards every human's fate. Well, now going into denial didn't seem like such a bad idea at all. 

"He hasn't aged like other people," Venom told him. 

"Because he isn't like other people," Eddie argued. What he really wanted to ask was _Has he aged like me?_ , but he was afraid to learn the answer. 

"And he's not well," Venom added. They were unusually patient with his refusal to acknowledge the reality of what he'd gotten both of them into. 

"Yeah, but-," Eddie tried again. "I mean, who is?" He paused to take a mental step back and insert this abandoned house in this small town into a broader context. "These aren't the best of times." 

"Eddie," Venom said gently. It was enough to pull him back to what was right in front of him. 

"If he were desperate because he was running out of time then there are other reporters he could call. Other newspapers," Eddie reminded them. "They would take his story in a heartbeat. But he didn't." 

"Because," Venom said, crawling all the way up beneath Eddie's ear. The sensation made him shiver and smile at once. "We're Eddie Brock," they said. "We're the most talented investigative journalist on this planet." 

"Now that's a bit too much," he said, but his chest already felt twice its size and his cheeks were warm now despite the cold of the night. Although Venom wasn't even watching him, --no one was--, and although they could sense and perceive him in a million other ways, he brought his hands up to his face to hide behind them for a second. 

It wasn't the compliment that had him all flustered and moved, that made him feel his stomach in his toes and his heart under his tongue. 

He let all the hormones circulate without commentary, waiting for the sudden rush of excitement, of happiness, of affection and desire to pass and take Venom's hunger with them. 

Afterwards, Eddie ran his fingers over the spot beneath his ear, where Venom had never surfaced, but made their presence known, and he bit his lip at the intense connection he still felt at the contact. 

"I don't even know the point I was trying to make," he admitted softly. "I don't know why I'm arguing this." He paused, understanding fully that it was out of his hands anyway. They couldn't stop what was happening whether they knew or not. "I just-," he started again, "I'm just not sure if I want to be here for this." 

* * *

The house was quiet in the morning but Eddie's mind was not. His eyes were sore from the lack of sleep and there was a shadowy ache in the back of his head, pushing forward like heavy fog over bare fields. 

He sat at the cusp of a breaking story, but for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure if he had what it took to see it through, start to finish. 

Drifting back and forth, between the present and his worries, --hypothetical scenarios and his hypothetical decisions, hypothetical crises and his hypothetical solutions--, it took him forever to get dressed. The lack of touch from his symbiote had his skin sensitive and his nerves yearning for stimulation. Tucked away under multiple layers of clothing, it itched when he was sweating and felt numb when he wasn't. 

Bucky was already out, --running errands according to Steve--, leaving the house feeling strangely empty. With him gone again, the mood had changed, but not necessarily for the better. After days of remaining close by constantly, his absence caused only persistent confusion. 

Watching Steve in the kitchen, Eddie could see what he had failed to realize the day before. He could see what hadn't been a secret to Venom's senses. He wished for something to nail it down to, --an irregular heartbeat, a chemical imbalance, a neurological contortion. Anything. But Steve was dying and Eddie couldn't even tell from what. 

"How are you feeling?" Eddie asked. He couldn't stop himself. 

Steve nodded before saying a single word. "I'm not worried about him, if that's what you're asking." 

It wasn't --at all-- what he was asking, but if Steve didn't want to talk about his general state of being, then Eddie wasn't going to press the topic. There was a chance, after all, that Steve wasn't consciously aware of how little time he had left to tell his story. 

"Buck just needs another moment to himself," Steve added and the idea began to appeal to Eddie too. 

* * *

It was a spur of the moment decision, heading out alone, but then again, Eddie wasn't particularly known for his contemplative choices and Steve didn't object. He simply needed to think. He needed to be alone for a while, go over everything again one more time. 

It had taken him a long while to find sleep after what he and Venom had talked about. Emotionally, he had been torn between sadness and fear on one side, and the impact his story was going to have on the other. No other journalist was going to talk to, even see Steve, --Captain America or not--, like this, aged and frail, before his death. The gravity of his article, the opportunity, caused him to feel shame on top of everything else and eventually he'd prayed for sleep to just take it all away. 

It was after sunrise when he'd finally passed out from exhaustion. To his surprise, he'd slept well afterwards, dreamless and deep, and woke only shortly before noon. 

Steve had told him the weather had stabilized, but Eddie couldn't see it. Snow and ice were still guiding his every step, and the air was cool with occasional freezing winds coming from the coast, carrying crystallized mist from crashing waves. The sky was gray and the sun was hidden behind thick clouds. All of the trees on beach plum bank were black shapes in the pasty haze of this winter. 

He went to the corner store first, didn't even have to think about it, and browsed all the chocolate bars on display. He brushed his fingers over the shiny plastic wrappings, picking up the ones he'd never had before, reading over the descriptions for Venom to choose. 

With all his pockets filled and no cash left, he followed the direction of the store's owner to the nearest ATM and took out of his account what bills and debts allowed. He was going to head for the motel next and put his money down to make sure Bess wouldn't follow through with her threat. 

This week, he was paying for the room with his own money. It wouldn't really give him all of the independence he wished for moving forward with the story, -- he was still employed with the newspaper--, but it would quiet his conscience during the upcoming delays. Eddie was convinced it would take his editor a while to notice anyway. He wouldn't be surprised to find out that his editor was satisfied to simply have him stuck all the way across the country, out from under his feet for now, --the longer the better. 

He had wanted to get away to think, but the more he thought, the more he craved to catch a break and get Steve out of his head. 

"We could stay at the motel for a few hours," he suggested. It was still his room for the time being, so why not use it. "We could get milkshakes," he offered, "and watch some TV." 

Of course, he'd like some skin contact too. They could draw the curtains close and turn off the lights, hide beneath the sheets for some alone time. It wouldn't matter to Eddie if he'd get off, all he wanted was the symbiote's skin beneath his fingers, their body pressed against his and their teeth grazing over his lips with every kiss. He wanted their eyes, glowing like moons in starless nights. 

Happy with his decision, he took the corner towards the diner, when he saw the back of a familiar black car idling close to the curb at the other side of the road, lights still on and with the engine running. Eddie's heart rate reflected the stress even before he consciously recognized the person tilted towards the passenger side window, seemingly engaged in some kind of conversation. 

"Hey!" Eddie yelled down the street. He held up a hand, waving as he fell into a jog. "Joey, hey!" he tried again. When he got no reaction, he picked up speed and crossed the street without taking his eyes off the boy from the diner, earning himself some angry signals, looks and gestures from annoyed drivers. 

Joey wasn't moving, was still talking to the person in the black car, not paying attention to the rest of the world. Eddie's panic grew without abandon when Joey moved towards the door of the backseat, and his jogging turned into a sprint. 

"Joey!" he screamed by now. "Don't get into the goddamn car!" he yelled, and finally Joey looked up from his conversation. It took him another moment before he let the door handle slip from his grip and he stepped away from the vehicle. His face was set in irritation as he watched Eddie rush down the sidewalk like a man possessed. 

The confusion he had caused seemed to have spooked the driver and he sped off as soon as the backseat door had fallen shut, the tires spinning and sliding on the frozen road for a second before catching enough traction to get the car moving. 

Eddie slowed down but kept a good pace while walking those few feet left between them. "What did they want?" he asked without closing the distance first. 

"Where have you been?" Joey asked back. He opened his arms wide and for a second Eddie feared it was to welcome him with a hug. But it wasn't. Joey was gesturing around him instead, bewildered, pissed, angry even. 

"What did they want?" Eddie asked again, breathless. He checked the road for another sign of the car, but it was gone for good now. 

"Directions," Joey just said. He looked annoyed at seeing Eddie here. "Where have you been?" he asked again. 

"Working," Eddie told him. He didn't have the patience for the teenage drama of Joey's disappointment. He was too old for that and Joey was too. "Directions to beach plum bank?"

"No," Joey said immediately. His tone revealed that he didn't think the question made any sense at all. Then, after a pause, he seemed to reconsider and his expression grew grim. "Is that where you've been?" 

"I've been working," Eddie said again. "Directions to where?"

"Oh, so you've been sleeping outside in the snow?" Joey asked sarcastically. "Because those guys think they're the only guests at the Oceanview." 

"Guys?" Eddie echoed. So far he'd hoped to be dealing with just one person. One person he could handle. One person he could scare and intimidate. One person could disappear so easily. This was bad news. "Didn't I tell you to stay the fuck away from people you don't know?" he reminded Joey, letting some of his anger out where it didn't necessarily belong. "You idiot were about to get into the fucking car," he almost yelled again, slapping the back of his hand against Joey's arm. A gesture that ended up not sitting well with him. 

"Don't touch me," Joey warned. The disillusionment of his infatuation was clearly turning into resentment and Eddie couldn't even blame him. He had led him on every chance he got. 

"Look," he tried, shoving his hands in his chocolate packed pockets and calming his voice. "You're just a kid, okay? I got scared seeing you getting involved with yet another set of strangers". 

"Just a kid," Joey repeated bitterly, but Eddie had expected that much. "I would have been twenty-six this year, do you know that?" 

Eddie's stance crumbled. This, he hadn't expected. Taken aback by the revelation, he glanced around helplessly. 

"I work in the diner because all of my plans got scratched six years ago and everyone I was friends with back then has already graduated college and moved the fuck away," Joey went on. It was his turn now to unload his anger. This time, Eddie was willing to take it. "I don't even know half of the people living here anymore," Joey informed him, his face red and his lips tight. "Sandy was just someone's little brother and now she's two years older, helping me do my job." 

"Joey," Eddie said. He wanted to say more, say something else, but found himself unable to. He wanted to apologize, but he knew from experience that it would ring without meaning. There was nothing he could do but share Joey's anger, his helplessness. And he did, albeit silently so. 

Joey shook his head, possibly embarrassed now that he'd put it all out there, giving Eddie more answers than he deserved. 

Though he had nothing to offer, Eddie opened his mouth to at least mend the humiliation Joey was experiencing when he was interrupted. 

"Everything okay?" It was Bucky, walking towards them, way too quiet as always. 

"Yeah," Eddie said and tried to wave him off. Despite his lack of words, his head empty and his throat tight, he felt like he owed Joey something, anything. 

But as he worked through his thoughts, he saw Joey's expression change yet again, from angry and disappointed, from desperate and helpless, to- 

-to broken as he realized the betrayal. 

"You said you didn't know them," he recalled correctly. "What was it again you said? Just bad vibes?" He stared Eddie down for a moment before he scoffed. "Yeah, sounds about right." He shook his head and before Eddie could react, Joey had his back towards him and was storming off, heading for the diner. 

"Joey!" Eddie called, but he knew it wouldn't change anything. "Fuck," he said to himself. 

"What was that about?" Bucky asked. His eyes were on Joey and he grimaced as he watched him struggle to make his way through the heaps of snow in the parking lot. 

"Who are these people staying at the motel?" Eddie asked, turning to face Bucky head on and draw his gaze away from Joey. He was still frustrated with himself, but he didn't hold back letting some of the anger out on Barnes too. 

"I don't know," Bucky told him. His face was annoyingly blank as it always was when faced with a question that mattered. 

"Who do you think they are?" Eddie pressed. 

"HYDRA, maybe?" Bucky said and shrugged. 

"HYDRA?" Eddie echoed. He couldn't quite believe his own ears. Or Bucky's earnestness. "They dissolved after Project Insight," he reminded him. 

"Right," Bucky said with an amount of sarcasm in his voice that enraged Eddie anew.

"Don't you think this concerns other people too?" he more or less spat out. "Me? The people in this town?" Trying to calm himself, he pressed the heels of his palms over his eyebrows. He didn't want to risk provoking Bucky again, didn't want to risk another altercation, didn't want to risk Venom slipping through the cracks of his composure again. "How can these people be HYDRA agents?" he asked more quietly. 

"That's HYDRA," Bucky repeated and shrugged. "Cut one head off and two more shall take its place." He said those words as dispassionately as reading from a manual. 

"Fuck," Eddie cursed again. He turned to look back at the diner, but Joey was nowhere to be seen. Most likely, he was taking out his frustrations on dirty dishes, on Sandy or some rude customers by now. Eddie hoped it was the customers. 

"Isn't he a bit young for you?" Bucky asked then. Eddie froze for a split second and was about to punch him in the face for a change, when he saw that Bucky was smirking, seemingly very pleased with his remark. 

"Don't start," Eddie told him, turning away to resume his path to the motel. No milkshakes this time. 

"The world doesn't end where he does," Bucky mocked after him. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, offered Barnes a middle finger without looking back. 

Not because he was smiling. No, that wasn't it. Because he didn't care.

"What are you doing?" Venom asked as soon as he'd brought some distance between them. 

"Nothing, love," he assured them.


	10. Chapter 10

It took Eddie the better half of the way to realize that Bucky hadn't taken off on his own again. That he hadn't been in any rush to return to the house. That Bucky was instead following in his tracks, and not even subtly. In fact, he wasn't as much following as they were walking side by side, with Bucky no more than two feet behind. 

When Eddie noticed, he jumped, cursing Bucky's superhuman stealth and Venom withholding a warning alike. Granted, he had been distracted, caught up in his own head, --not even his head, just his pride and his ego--, so he was just as responsible for the scare as everyone else. 

"What are you doing?" he asked Bucky. Carefully, he tried shaking off some of the adrenaline, although he knew Venom would be taking care of it in just a second. But Eddie didn't like the way his fingers were shaking and he didn't want Bucky to notice. 

"Just making sure you won't run into trouble," Bucky informed him. 

"I'm taking care of my bill upfront," Eddie said annoyed. His heart hadn't calmed down yet and he didn't like the sensation. 

"Just checking the motel for any bad guys," Bucky told him. By the tone he used on the term ' _bad guys_ ', Eddie realized he was poking more fun at him again. 

This side of Barnes was so unfamiliar that Eddie didn't know what to do with it. He didn't know if he liked it or feared it. Possibly both at the same time. 

"You know what?" Bucky asked then. "I think you're just afraid of growing old." 

Eddie frowned and scrunched his nose. "Thanks, Doctor Freud," he muttered, but, naturally, Bucky caught it and huffed a half-hearted laugh in amusement. 

"What?" Bucky pressed. This talkative version of him had Eddie baffled without meaning to. "You think that was a normal reaction? Whatever that was yesterday?" 

Eddie stopped at once, tilting his head in disbelief. Bucky passed him, knocking their shoulders together. Considering his reflexes, Eddie doubted it happened by accident. 

"My reaction?" he asked, bringing his ear further around to make sure he would hear right this time. 

Bucky shrugged his goddamn shrug and Eddie held himself back from yanking the metal arm to stop him from doing so. 

"Come on," he said, like it was just Eddie being stubborn. "It bothered you seeing us like that." 

"Yeah," Eddie said before thinking. "I mean, no. Not really." He shook his head, knowing just how credible that denial sounded. "I just didn't expect to see him like that," he admitted. 

"Old?" Bucky guessed again. 

"No, not that," Eddie argued although the surprise from that first night could hardly be denied. But it hadn't been Steve's age that had turned the surprise into a shock just days later. "Weak," Eddie corrected, his voice barely audible. 

"You're afraid of being weak?" Bucky asked, but he looked as if things were beginning to make sense at once. 

Eddie nodded. He didn't like talking about it. About his fears. It made him feel weak, thus bringing his nightmare full circle. 

Bucky stepped closer, but kept his hands to himself. Not that Eddie expected him to lash out here where anyone could see. Not that he expected him to lash out at all. Still, he was oddly aware of his hands and that they weren't on him. 

"You know," Bucky started again, keeping his voice low, keeping it just between the two of them "I've seen, I don't know, hundreds of people being weak," he said. A car passed them, but the only thing Eddie noticed about it was that it wasn't black. The intimacy of Bucky's voice, of the words shared between them remained untouched. "They were helpless, they were scared." He paused, waiting for Eddie to meet his gaze. "It was never their fault." 

Eddie nodded, but Bucky's assurances had the opposite effect on him. They left him as insecure as before, left him without much sense of agency and it worsened his fears. He'd rather blame himself than surrender to external circumstances. It wasn't a character flaw, not always. Being accountable was what made him a good journalist. And he'd taken the fall for his mistakes more than once. 

"And Steve," Bucky added, removing the burden to come up with a reply from Eddie's shoulders. "He's not weak, never has been in his life. He used to be sick, worse than you can imagine. And he used to be this tall," Bucky said, marking a spot on his chest with his right hand while he smiled. "But he wasn't weak even then. He was nuts though," Bucky remarked, grinning as he dropped his hand back to his side. His shoulder twitched before he spoke again. "He hasn't changed, he's just old now."

For a second neither of them had anything to add and they just stood there, Eddie unable to even blink. 

"He talks about dying," he confessed then, keeping the context of the conversation to himself. He wasn't planning on breaking his promise to Steve. Not this one at least. 

"He talks about fighting too," Bucky argued. "About getting back to it. About all that's left to do. He's faced death so many times. He isn't afraid of it," was all that Bucky had to say to that. 

* * *

Eddie exhaled in relief when he stepped into the office of the Oceanview motel and discovered only the old Frankie McFarlane at his desk, looking up from yet another novel that kept him company. Though Bess appeared less and less intimidating with every meeting, he wasn't eager yet to cross her path again this soon. 

"How's business?" Eddie asked, fumbling for his wallet and dropping not one but two chocolate bars in the process. As he bent down to pick them back up, he noticed McFarlane's gaze going right over his head, past the window to the sidewalk where Bucky was hovering and kicking around chunks of frozen snow. 

"You know," McFarlane started. His eyes lingered with Bucky for a second before he focused back on Eddie in front of him. "You're gonna get your heart broken," he warned, "pursuing this one." 

Although he knew better, Eddie threw a glance out the window and caught Bucky smirking at something down by his foot. Internally, Eddie took another moment to curse supersoldier hearing and old men who meant well with their advice. Then he turned and smiled at Frankie McFarlane and counted out his bills. 

"Are the other guys behaving?" Eddie asked, choosing to ignore the remark and the damp skin on the back of his neck. "In the other room," he clarified. "Or are they giving you trouble?" 

McFarlane shook his head. "I think they're beginning to enjoy being snowed in for the time being." 

"That so?" Eddie asked, his suspicion raised. He didn't trust what the old romantic wanted to believe in. 

"Looks like you found a reason to stay yourself," McFarlane said with a nod towards the money before he threw another glance out the window, his eyebrows raised. 

This time around, Eddie successfully fought the instinct to follow with his eyes. He didn't need to see Bucky even more pleased with himself. 

"Just mark my words," McFarlane reminded him. "This one's loyal to the bones. He won't make you happy." 

Eddie felt his chest tighten as he let out a breath of annoyance. 

"I'll keep that in mind." 

* * *

Bucky kept looking smug all the way back to beach plum bank. And even when Eddie wasn't looking, the self-satisfaction kept radiating off of him. 

It was annoying and Eddie chose to concentrate on his feet, determined to not need Bucky's help to keep himself on them. 

The plastic wrappings of the chocolate bars were crinkling in his pockets with every step, but if Bucky picked up on it over the crunch of the snow, he kept every comment to himself. 

Though Eddie hadn't been self-conscious the day before, he was now, taking two breaths for each of Bucky's and sweating under his parka. 

Venom wasn't offering any support and Eddie didn't want to ask for it. 

"All those people," he began instead, glancing over to see if Bucky had heard him start talking, which --of course-- he had. "You know," Eddie went on, "the ones who weren't weak due to faults of their own? Do you think there was anything that could have been done?" 

Bucky furrowed his brows as he considered the question. Eddie was vaguely aware that Barnes had been referencing his victims or those he witnessed being victims of other HYDRA agents. As far as Eddie could guess, they hadn't stood a chance and couldn't have done anything to change their luck. 

When Bucky weighed the question by tilting his head from one side to the other though, Eddie recovered a little hope for himself. 

"They didn't have what you have," Bucky just said, reminding Eddie of _that thing_ so eager to protect him. The source of all the strength that wasn't his, not really. His darling symbiote.

His love. 

Somewhere on the inside, he felt Venom uncurl with his thoughts, but before he could even locate the sensation, Barnes pulled a knife from a hidden pocket in his goddamn armpit, --no, not on the metal side,-- he pulled the blade straight from where it was lodged next to a vital artery. 

Caught off guard, Eddie jumped to the side, his arms flailing, the symbiote as unprepared as he himself was, and they would have lost their balance if not for Bucky's grip on his shoulder. 

"Relax," Barnes said. "I'm going to teach you a couple of tricks. They might come in handy one day." He held out the knife for Eddie to take, it's handle bare for Eddie to wrap his fingers around as Bucky was holding it gently by the blade. Eddie flinched at the sound it made when he pulled it from the metal sheath that was Bucky's fingers. 

"First you gotta know how to secure it tightly," Bucky said. He pulled Eddie along on their path, resuming their walk, slower though, and then he placed his hands around Eddie's, rearranging his fingers to achieve optimal grip strength. 

Eddie's mind was swimming. He hadn't recovered yet from the shock and he felt a little dizzy. When Bucky let go of him and he looked down to the end of his sleeve, he barely recognized his own hand. There were no traces left of clumsy fingers, veins and tendons protruding with the tight clasp he had around the deadly weapon, making his own hand look somewhat intimidating to his own eyes. 

Eddie wasn't sure how to feel about it. 

As they headed up the hillside, Bucky continued to show him a couple of defensive moves he could do not just with that knife but any sharp object really. 

"You want to keep them away from your body," he reminded Eddie over and over again. "Just keep me away from your body," he added and each time pushed forward into Eddie's space. 

Eddie knew his skin was flushed down to his chest. With his cheeks hot and red he tried catching his breath through an open mouth, feeling a wave of embarrassment whenever he came face to face with Barnes, perfectly composed. 

The longer they wrestled for possession of the knife, the more Eddie started laughing, enjoying himself and the physicality of their contact. They were careful, well, not Eddie in particular, --he didn't know the first thing about knives--, but he could tell by the way Bucky kept wrapping his metal fingers around the blade whenever the knife threatened to become trapped between their bodies. Though there were at least three layers of clothes between them on Eddie's side alone, and although Bucky's touch wasn't necessarily caring, it was the mixture of feeling safe while feeling encouraged that kept boosting Eddie's trust, his mood and his self-confidence. He liked this, relearning the exhilaration of play fight, a fictitious pecking order being inscribed into muscle memory. 

It wasn't meant to last. No, of course not. Somehow fate must have been looking down on him, wondering what was wrong with aiming for a three for three in one day and coming to the conclusion of ' _Nothing!_ '. 

They were still outside, had made it almost back to the house where someone, --tall, dark and handsome--, was just taking the steps down from the porch, tightening their scarf around their neck. 

"Aaron," Bucky called instantly. Possibly even to assure Eddie that they weren't about to be attacked. Eddie watched him nod at Aaron, unaware, --so blissfully unaware of what was about to unfold--, and Eddie couldn't help but feel envious, wishing he could just swap places. 

Though his phone was tucked away safely in one of the three pockets sewed into the lining of his parka, the only thing Eddie could clearly see in that moment was Aaron's text and its timestamp and how he had left it sitting there on _read_ for a week. 

He hung back, watched Bucky exchange a quick handshake with Aaron, the metal hand casually hidden in his jacket. 

"I just dropped off some leftovers from the restaurant," Aaron said, pointing towards the house. He smiled, a relaxed smile, and tugged his sleeve over his knuckles to warm his hands. Eddie watched him for as long as he could, taking in all of Aaron as he remembered him, because he knew everything was going to change as soon as his eyes wandered to where he stood. 

The seconds it took for Aaron to recognize Eddie didn't come as a surprise. This wasn't where he, --either of them really--, were expecting to see the other. 

Recalling the story of Aaron's truck and the unnamed friend, Eddie should have seen it coming. He should have asked Steve about Aaron much sooner. Should have asked him about Bess and the old McFarlane. About everyone at the diner. He should have been inquiring about who specifically knew what exactly. Most talented investigative journalist his ass. 

Aaron took one good look at Eddie, before he shook his head in a gesture that indicated he was more disappointed with himself than the guy that had blown him off after a promising date instead of blowing him in different ways. Away, for one. Like he deserved. 

"I-," Eddie started, unsure of how to finish. He forgot? He had been meaning to reply? He was just about to text? 

"Don't worry about it," Aaron said before Eddie had the chance to make up his mind. There was hurt in his expression though, the same kind of hurt that had been there when Eddie declined his invitation to stay the night. "I thought you'd left town already," he added and glanced over his shoulder at Bucky who watched the exchange with his signature blank face. "Guess you found a reason to stay after all." 

He said that last bit, those same words Frankie McFarlane had used, as he walked past Eddie. His tone was sour but he kept his voice low and quiet. If only that would have been enough to withhold that remark from Bucky's hearing. 

Eddie saw the smirk even before Aaron's figure had completely disappeared from his peripheral vision. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, calculating the chances of him being the _bad guy_ out of all the guests at the motel. The statistics weren't in his favor. When he opened his eyes again, Bucky was still enjoying Eddie's soap opera, his continuous interest only adding to the humiliation. 

"I don't know why you think all of this is funny," Eddie said after another beat of silence. He stepped closer, so he, too, could lower his voice to an appropriate volume. "People thinking we're lovers." 

The word was out there, and Eddie stared at the empty air between them with no idea how it got there. He couldn't take it back, but he kept staring as if he could scold it for slipping with just one look. 

"Lovers?" Bucky echoed. He sounded even more amused now. "They don't think we're lovers," he said with a laugh wedged between the last two syllables. "They just think you want us to be." Once he finished, he looked pleased with his assessment.

"And you're so vain that the idea brings you joy?" Eddie asked, annoyed with Bucky's arrogance. 

"I just think it's funny," Bucky said. He leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. Between the two of them, he didn't need to hide his hand any longer. 

"Why?" Eddie pressed. His mouth was beyond his control now. "Because I'm beneath you?" he added angrily. 

"Because-," Bucky started. Eddie's emotions didn't seem to register with him. "Clearly, you have a different type." 

"I don't have a type," Eddie insisted. He'd been over this. 

Bucky scoffed. "So you're just playing all the fields? Very classy."

Eddie froze at that. He'd been over that too. Countless times in his life. "Fuck you," he said, but some of his fire had already burned out. "People think I care about you because I was looking for you. That's all." 

"Right, that's it," Bucky tried, but Eddie was already continuing to talk over him. 

"Otherwise, they'd see that this-," he gestured between them, "-is a terrible idea." 

He kept gesturing while the space separating them began to shrink. Before he knew it, he wasn't pointing anymore but pulling. With his fingers on Bucky's jacket, he beckoned him closer and closer until he didn't need his hands anymore, his lips doing all the work for him. They were pressing against Bucky's, pleading, begging and finally parting, --dutifully and in relief--, for the tip of his tongue. 


	11. Chapter 11

For most of the week, Eddie's body had ached with loneliness, --the kind of ache that could only be cured from the outside. Now Bucky was making contact with all of his sore spots, making bleed what had only been tender before. 

He couldn't stand Bucky's fingers on their body, --grazing, touching, holding onto what was Venom's and his alone--, but Eddie wanted more of him at the same time. He wanted to hold him hostage, take Bucky's devotion that wasn't about him, the loyalty that had never been about him--, and make it about him. He wanted to have Bucky selfishly, one sided, and not give anything in return. 

He kept pushing Bucky's hands off him while pushing into him. He kept clinging to him headlessly, to his lips, the sleeve over his metal arm and the collar of his jacket. His mouth was pressed against Bucky's and he was kissing him as desperately and impatiently as an overeager virginal college freshman drunk on three beers. 

Where Eddie was already open and blunt, Bucky cut into with repressed anger and inserted himself with unholy precision. He lined up both hands with the underside of Eddie's jaw, his fingers digging into the back of Eddie's neck on both sides to keep him from fighting off the touch. From the sensation alone, Eddie couldn't tell metal from flesh. It was only from memory that he could make the distinction. 

Their breaths were wet, freezing over instantly whenever a gust of wind took hold of the air around them. Bucky's mouth was hot in comparison, the drag of his beard against Eddie's upper lip was rough and the slide of his tongue both too much and not enough. What was happening -- it was unacceptable. It was a train wreck sliding towards collateral damage, a landslide about to turn into an avalanche. And yet Eddie continued to let it happen, continued to make it happen. 

Venom was with him, was in him, was him, --was _t_ _hem--_ , every part of their body shared. They were in the kiss, in every touch, and Eddie squeezed his eyes shut even tighter whenever the thought forced itself into consciousness. 

But they weren't just in him. 

They were in Bucky, in all that Eddie had seen Bucky do. They were strong when Eddie was weak, they were caring when he was hurt, protective when he was vulnerable. They were vicious when they were angry, deadly when they were threatened, yet never losing their temper. 

They were amused when he was stupid, they were unimpressed when he was jumping to conclusions and they were proud when he got it right. They were happy when he was happy, in love when he loved them and they were wild when he was overflowing with it. 

And Eddie wanted them. 

He wanted what he couldn't have. He wanted what he had to protect, what he had to keep hidden and imprisoned and malnourished so that no one could take it away from him. 

He wasn't Steve. No, he wasn't oblivious to his symbiote's sacrifice. He wasn't oblivious to his own selfishness. Not when it came to Venom, not when it came to Bucky, the feral lover, the perfect stand-in. 

He wanted to have Bucky and free him at the same time. And he wanted him to want him back, violently so, and to make it hurt. 

But when Eddie pressed into him until his lips hurt, thinking of sharp teeth within reach; when he thought he'd make a noise but it got stuck in his chest so tense Eddie feared something might snap, Bucky's palms held him steady and the kiss grew gentle. The pressure faded and the warmth lingered, but a second later it was only cool air touching Eddie's lips. 

The moment Eddie opened his eyes, Bucky stood two feet away from him already, and yet Eddie tumbled backwards until his hands found the porch and his butt found the wooden steps. 

They were covered in snow melting under his body and Eddie grimaced. He was about to move back up when his gaze found what couldn't be avoided given his eye level.

Bucky was hard. He was hard even though Eddie wasn't. And for a moment, all Eddie could do was stare shamelessly at his crotch. From what Eddie could make out through the thick fabric of the jeans in shape and size, Bucky had a nice cock. But although the sight turned him on now, all Eddie could focus on was the nausea he felt. He didn't know if it was the embarrassment of him looking, the shock of the kiss, or whether it was Venom. 

Trying to shake it all off, Eddie stumbled back onto his feet despite the dizziness. His face was hot, more so than before, but his cheeks had been flushed anyway. 

Bucky had his eyes fixed on him, but they weren't really focused on him, looking through him somehow. 

Eddie's lips were cold so he licked them on instinct, remembering only then that they were cold because they were wet, and that they were wet because they had kissed ten seconds ago. 

Bucky watched his mouth now, seemingly being reminded only then that he had one too. Not just a mouth with lips and gums and teeth, and soft tissue on the insides of his cheeks, a tongue at its center. No, he, too, had a mouth that had just been kissed. And all those places were now known to Eddie. Bucky's hand twitched, possibly with the impulse to wipe all evidence away. 

He didn't though. And so Eddie found himself staring at his hand for nothing, its resting, steadying, guiding touch against his jaw revisiting his memory. 

Although he hadn't come up with what to say yet, although his brain hadn't come up with anything coherent yet, let alone words, Eddie made an attempt to clear his throat. Unfortunately, his chest was still too tight to let enough air in and so his upper body just jerked as if he was going to finally throw up. 

Bucky frowned, but he still wasn't looking at him properly, so Eddie hoped that he had missed the spasm. 

"This is awkward, Eddie," Venom complained. Their words filled all the empty space in their shared mind and the simplicity of the statement reached Eddie through the haze of his own confusion like the comforting light of a safe harbor. He didn't flinch at the sudden appearance of their voice and could only find one explanation for it. 

Despite everything, during the kiss, he had never even considered shutting them out, keeping thoughts, --flashes, glimpses or even fragments of thoughts--, to himself. 

So nothing in his body could muster up the fantasy of being caught. 

Bucky finally zeroed in on him, the attention sudden and striking. Eddie felt being assessed anew and he stressed over being subjected to a test he didn't know how to pass. 

He tried again forming words, his mouth opening, then closing with nothing to say still. As the silence continued, Bucky began looking more and more uncomfortable and yet he didn't manage to put a single sentence out there either. 

"Can we go now?" Venom asked. They sounded annoyed but their question only added to the surreality of the situation. 

Some part of Eddie toyed with the idea to just leave this mess behind and head back to the motel instead, to TV and chocolate and heating that actually worked. 

The other part didn't feel that it could move until Bucky dismissed him. Why Barnes himself hadn't stormed off yet was beyond Eddie. 

"Um-," he forced out finally. His voice was off pitch and scratchy. It was a pathetic attempt to set something, anything, in motion. 

Bucky looked grossed out by the sound. As if he'd forgotten that Eddie was even capable of speaking and now the reminder was very painful to him. 

"So," Eddie tried again. He was used to that kind of facial expression. No one liked a talking reporter. 

"So," Bucky echoed then, as hesitantly as if he was learning the first word of a new language.

"This happened," Eddie just stated then. Inside his head, he formed another thought for just Venom. "I have no idea how this happened."

"How did this happen?" Bucky asked, putting the question out there between them. 

"Why didn't you stop me?" Eddie wondered. It had been an inquiry meant for the symbiote sharing his body, but he'd accidentally said it out loud. He flinched. It was a mistake he hadn't made in a while. 

Bucky looked at him, confused mostly, but with a mixture of bewilderment and shock too. "Did you not want it to-" he started, his tone unsure of the words. "Happen?" he added cautiously. There was a kind of shame and fear on his face that was impossible to bear. 

"That's not what I-," Eddie began, then sighed in frustration. His head was still a mess. "I did, of course I did want it," he said, then felt guilty for saying it. "I mean, kind of," he corrected. "When it happened, I didn't _not_ want it. But it's not, like, something I had been thinking about or making plans for. But still, I guess you couldn't say it was something that was forced upon me against my will." He paused. His own rambling sentences were confusing him. "It just-,"

"Happened," Bucky finished for him. He looked slightly better now. 

"Yeah," Eddie agreed. "It just happened." As he watched Bucky, as his head cleared a little and as he felt more of his symbiote distinctly inside his body, he reconsidered. "Unless you didn't," he said, meaning not just Bucky, but Venom too. "Then I did this. And then I'll apologize." 

He felt more like himself already, taking responsibility, feeling accountable, acknowledging that nothing ever just happened. 

Bucky saw through his self-serving bullshit instantly. He scoffed, but not dismissively. He was amused, again, and the ground beneath Eddie's feet began to feel steadier now. 

"You do remember I'm living with a hundred-and-ten year old, right?" Bucky asked and Eddie nodded before he knew what he was doing. 

He didn't want to think about Steve, about the trust he'd broken there. He didn't want to think about Steve and worry about what he'd been doing, the room he'd been in, what he might have seen through the windows. What his ears would pick up even now. 

Bucky mirrored the nod. It was self-explanatory, but it wasn't kind, it wasn't devoted, it wasn't what Eddie wanted to understand about their relationship. 

He wanted the other Bucky back. The one that beat him up for suggesting he'd stop doting on Steve. The one that kept Steve safe and kept all his secrets. Not this one insinuating he was sex deprived because Steve couldn't get it up anymore. 

Kissing didn't have an age limit, did it? It shouldn't. Libido had, stamina had, passion maybe if old age made you tired. But they wouldn't have gone this far. This was just a kiss. And a kiss was ageless, wasn't it? 

It had to be. Because one day Eddie would be old and Venom would still be hungry, and he'd starve them or they would leave him and then he would die too. 

"Eddie," Venom tried, but just their voice caused him pain right that moment. He couldn't do this, talk about it, think-talk about it, have this conversation. Not out here in front of Barnes, not after what had happened. 

"So it just happened," Bucky summarized their short lived discussion about mutual willingness, about individual responsibility, about explicit consent after the fact. 

"It just happened," Eddie agreed again. He wanted to get away and panic while he sat again with his misery and fear. So, logically, he knew he was better off staying here and resolving this instead of wallowing in his self-pity. "At least we got it out of our system," he added and actually felt some relief with that acknowledgment. 

"It was never in the system," Bucky cut in. Maybe it was true for him. He didn't spend weeks trailing Eddie's ghosts. He hadn't trained his eyes to look for him in every person. He hadn't been looking at the same photo over and over again, memorizing every shadow and every pixel. "I mean, I haven't," Barnes started again but Eddie wouldn't let him finish. 

"Me neither," he said reflexively. He didn't need to have Barnes turn him down gently on top of everything else. "Let's just forget about it," he suggested. 

"And not do it again," Bucky added, giving Eddie pause.

He frowned because no form of repetition had even occurred to him. "Why would we?" he wondered. 

Bucky shrugged. 

"And not do it again," Eddie repeated, refusing to overthink this. 

It didn't matter though, how often they'd agreed that it had just happened. How often Eddie insisted that it was just a kiss. That Bucky wouldn't have fucked him out in the snow for Steve to see. It lingered anyway, stuck to them like dirt. Not what had happened, but what they had done. 

* * *

Eddie let Bucky go in first, let him clear the way as they walked into the house. Steve was nowhere to be seen and he was difficult to locate with Eddie's mind unable to muster enough focus. Eddie guessed that he was upstairs, resting maybe. 

So he let Bucky take the stairs first too, watching his back, his mind daring him to glance down to his ass with every step. Maybe a fuck in the snow could have gone either way. 

Neither of them bothered to say another word when they parted ways as soon as they reached the top. Eddie didn't know but didn't care whether Bucky was going to confess. Other things were more important. And if Steve would kick him out he'd write a story with what he already had. It would sell well enough. People liked to see their heroes humanized. And what was more humanizing than growing old. 

"Come on love," Eddie thought as he kicked off his boots. He closed the door behind him, tossed his jacket to the floor and went straight to the bed, crawling between the sheets. The only semi private space available. "Let me see you," he pleaded once his whole body was hidden. He didn't care about how stupid it was or how dumb he looked. He had already made a fool of himself. 

A little bit of afternoon sunlight reached him through the threads and his breaths were as loud as if his ears were clogged, resonating elsewhere in his ribcage and skull. 

"Do you want me to say it?" he asked in a hushed whisper. He didn't wait for a reply. "I'm needy, I like him liking me, I want him to like me." He waited for Venom to react but they didn't. "I know you're jealous of him," he went on carefully. He still had hopes that Venom would show sooner or later. "I know he's different from Aaron. From Annie and Dan." He swallowed. For the first time in all these weeks the thought of Annie and Dan made him miss home. "I know you hate him because I like him, because I think he's like you and that if you were a person, if you were human," he corrected, "you'd be like him. And we'd be like them. And maybe things would be easier. There, I said it. It's crossed my mind. But you already knew that." 

Taking a careful breath, he waited another second. Although he felt like he was suffocating from the bed sheet over his head and his confession, he couldn't bring himself to make more noise than necessary. He knew Venom was listening, he could feel it in his own ears. 

"But he's not like you and you're not like him, not really, that was just a dumb idea, a fantasy," he continued. His mouth felt sticky but he pushed through, phrasing one thought at a time, speaking it to give it meaning. His mind came up with a billion useless thoughts a day, and he needed Venom to know truth from fiction. "I don't want you to be human. I want what we have." 

He wanted the monster of his nightmares in his bed. 

Exhaustion took hold of his body, the insanity of the day weighing him down. He slumped back into his pillow, staring at the white fabric that had taken on a deep yellow hue from the impending sundown. 

He felt it first before he saw it, more weight gathering on his chest, and then Venom's head appeared from his body like a shark breaching the water surface. Not the miniature one, but the big and scary one, the one Eddie liked best. They settled, --halfway in and halfway out--, their black skin shiny and shimmering, not a shark, but a beached whale in shallow seas. They looked at him and he looked at them, and suddenly things weren't as bad as they had appeared just a minute ago. 

"I want us," Eddie added, cautiously reaching out to place his hand on his symbiote. He didn't think Venom would move away from his touch, they were in contact with his body anyway. But Eddie knew once his palm connected to the symbiote, he'd feel its absence later for days. 

"He's like us a little bit, Eddie" Venom said. Though their mouth was moving, they were still mostly submerged in his body and their voice was predominantly in Eddie's head. 

"Yeah?" Eddie asked. His fingers were grazing over Venom's cheek and between their eyes, and he was paying more attention to being present right here with them than what they were going to say about Barnes. "How so?"

"We think he gets bored sometimes," they said and Eddie smiled although it was actually kind of sad. 

"I'm sorry you're bored," he said softly. "I'm sorry you're stuck with me."

"Eddie," Venom stopped him. They watched him for a moment but Eddie didn't know what they were looking for. "Riot warned us that this was going to happen," they said then. 

Eddie shook his head preemptively. Whatever that toxic shit had said to his symbiote could be neither right nor helpful. "What did Riot say?" he asked despite his better judgement. 

"That humans go mad when they're bonded for too long," Venom informed him. Their flat delivery made Eddie smile again. 

"Maybe that fucker was right," Eddie admitted. "Maybe I am mad." He scratched Venom where they had no ears but would look cute with a floppy pair. "Maybe I'm going insane," he contemplated. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked.

"Of course not, Eddie," they assured him. Their tone was playful but it grew more serious when they continued. "We love you." 

Eddie kept the smile on his face, but he felt like crying. He fought back the tears though, and the tremor in the corners of his mouth and around his chin. He swallowed the lump in his throat and collected his thoughts.

"I'm ageing, V," he said honestly. "Maybe not too much, not yet, maybe very slow. But it'll happen." He shook his head slowly as if he couldn't believe it himself. And he genuinely couldn't. He couldn't see himself grow old. He couldn't see himself being old. "People don't do what we do when they're fifty, sixty, seventy, " he went on. Lecturing not his symbiote but himself. "They retire. They pass on the shield." 

Venom kept their eyes on him and held still for all his touches. Eddie needed his fingers occupied, so he brushed little specks of dust off his symbiote's skin and picked fibers sticking to them that matched his sweater's fabric. 

"You'll be bored," Eddie carried on although it pained him to do so. "So bored. All the time. And I'll be sad and feel guilty, and you'll be hungry. And I'd be more sad again and you'd be more hungry. And one day I will die and if I haven't killed you yet, you will leave my dead body and find a new host. And they'll be younger than me, better than me, and you'll love them more." 

He didn't say that they would be right to do so, but he thought it. 

Venom sighed, low and exasperated and deep in the depths of his head. It made Eddie draw up his shoulders to hide his head. 

"Eddie," they started again, sounding forcefully patient. "We want to stay together," they reminded him. "We won't leave your body." 

"Don't-," he tried but Venom spoke over him. 

"We're one, Eddie," they insisted. "We're ride or die. We're ride and die." 

"Don't say that," Eddie tried again. He placed his hands not over his own ears, it wouldn't have kept Venom's voice out anyway, but over the spots he'd just assigned to Venom's non-existent ones. He held onto them stronger than intended, his fingers driving into their body.

"We'll live for a while," Venom went on, unfazed by all of it. "A long while, Eddie. That's our gift. That's what the bond does. And then we die together. Always together." 

Eddie's heart said yes to that, his entire soul said yes to that, every part of his body said yes to that. But it was the selfishness of it all that felt so wrong that he struggled to accept it. With Venom, everything that was a red flag in other relationships was where theirs only began. With Venom everything that was forbidden was allowed. Loving Venom so much that he would keep them from everyone else. Wanting not only to be part of their life but be their life. Wanting not part of them, but all of them, wanting to be them. Wanting them to be him. Being just one person in love with only themself. 

"Let us," Venom asked, offered again. They moved up a little and forward to bring their foreheads together until Eddie saw only the blur of their glowing eyes. 

He nodded, surrendering to the selfishness. He'd let them be him and let them die with him. That was his gift. That was what the bond did. They'd be together forever. 

For a moment they stayed like this. The promise swirled through them, circulating in blood and symbiote matter. The tip of Venom's tongue sneaked up the side of Eddie's throat, then under his jaw. He closed his eyes as they cleaned his lips first of other people's traces. Bucky's traces. His tongue afterwards, and the rest of his mouth. By then his dick was hard and he rubbed it through his jeans. The friction alone would have gotten uncomfortable soon, but Venom was helping along beneath his clothes, possessive tendrils webbing around him tightly, rigidly firm when he got ahead of himself. 

He was still sore from this morning, but Venom didn't care and Eddie liked it anyway, breathing through the stinging pain when Venom pushed past the slit of his cock. 

He gasped when Venom sank into him, --everywhere--, their foreheads merging, their tongues, their teeth. And suddenly it wasn't just Venom doing things to his cock, it was Eddie himself. He reached so far into the bond, his thoughts took hold of the tendrils, moving them as he liked. Venom didn't just allow it, they wanted it and Eddie could feel their excitement blanketing his own hesitation, washing it away. 

Riot would be disgusted. 

It was Eddie's last thought before he came. 

* * *

The wood in the fireplace cracked and Eddie threw it a repulsed look. Just like last time, he had his feet tucked as close to the sofa as possible while Steve stretched out comfortably in the warm bubble surrounding his armchair and the entire sitting area. 

"Now where do I start?" Steve asked. Eddie could sense his nervousness. 

Bucky was _out_. _Making rounds_. He'd never done that before, but Eddie hadn't pressed the matter when Steve had told him. He was happy to avoid all mention of Barnes altogether, but he knew that Steve would have to bring him up sooner or later. 

"At the beginning?" Eddie suggested gently. Though Steve didn't look more fragile today, his hands were shaking more visibly. 

"Yes, that's right," Steve said. He gave Eddie a smile. "Time is linear after all. Even if you go back. Then the past will be your future." 

Eddie frowned. He glanced down to the notepad in his hands, the motel's logo at the top. He shouldn't have taken it. He didn't think McFarlane made enough money to have more branded. He wouldn't need it anyway. Not really. The paper was only to keep record for his own thoughts. His phone and its microphone took care of the rest. He had placed it on the coffee table between them, not quite in the middle, a little further towards where Steve was sitting. 

"You lost some time in the snap, Bucky did too," he started again. Eddie knew that after the interviews, he would have to put hours into sorting Steve's story, into bringing it in order. Making it readable. Digestible. "I lost seventy years once," Steve went on. "And I tried to make up for it for a while." He paused, possibly sorting through his memories. "The beginning is where a lot of things fall apart." 

It was a good quote and Eddie made a short note next to a row of question marks he had scribbled down earlier because not a lot of things that Steve said made sense and because it had given his hands something to do. 

"In the beginning it was just Buck and me," Steve added.

Eddie didn't know if Bucky had told him about the kiss. It didn't seem likely since Steve's attitude towards him hadn't changed. He had invited him into his bedroom after dinner. A dinner that Bucky had missed. Eddie didn't know what to make of the fact that Barnes was so comfortable leaving the two of them alone so often lately.

Dinner had tasted better than yesterday. But it had tasted of remorse too since Aaron had made it and Eddie could tell with every bite. 

"I'm sure you were a decent student," Steve said, confusing Eddie for a second. "You paid attention in class and you read the history textbook." 

Eddie nodded. He'd done more than that. He'd done his research like a good reporter. He wasn't one of those experts focusing on historical figures but he guessed that what he had read, heard and could recall still exceeded common knowledge. 

"The history books said we were best friends," Steve continued. "Which we were, but you have probably figured out by now that it was always a little more complicated than that. Bucky was indeed my best friend, my first friend, and he was my first love too." 

Eddie drew in a long, quiet breath, bracing himself. He hadn't assumed that Rogers's story would begin with Barnes. That he'd be forced to listen to Steve detailing his feelings for the man that Eddie had kissed this afternoon despite being aware of their relationship.

For a second he wondered if Bucky had told him after all and whether this was his punishment while Barnes was sent to sleep outside. But then Steve gathered his own breath and Eddie remembered that this was about a confession. 

"We were very much head over heels," Steve informed him. "We swore to be at each other's side until the end of the line." 

_Together forever_ rang in the back of Eddie's head, making him smile. He couldn't tell anymore where Venom was inside his body. Their bond wasn't just a connection anymore. He couldn't tell where he ended and Venom began. They were everywhere. And he was happy, selfishly happy, even in the face of Steve's tragedy. 

"He was--, he is the great love of my life," Steve told him then. "But he wasn't the only one." 

"Peggy Carter," Eddie guessed. 

Steve nodded, rubbed his knuckles like he had the day before. He was smiling.

"Peggy Carter," he echoed.


End file.
